Sunday, July 19, 2009

peaches (31)

a hendecasyllabic hymn for a long,
lost love…
yr loving arms hold me like lanceolate
leaves, broad & pinnately veined; yr yellowbrown
flesh, delicately scented & easily
bruised, its soft colorless hair perfectly plates
the visual euphony that u are; yr
sweet, solitary purplepink flower, whose
fragrant, contractile petals close at my tongue’s
raspy touch, sings to me a sultry siren
song, drawing me stiffly into yr warm, wet
stoneless center, yr delicious friction,
again & again until i’m passionspent.

© Joseph McNair;2009

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