we make love and the world calls it poetry

she paints her lips
with the ashes of never
kissing me gently
taking away my ability
to recall the taste
of anyone but her

she spreads glitter
the crushed shells of hope
across her perfect breasts
and as she rocks
back and forth upon me
a hundred thousand prayers
come to life before
my unbelieving eyes

i lay halfway between
cognizant and comatose
unable to differentiate
dream from delusion
the meanings overlap
in this conflagration of
heavens between her thighs

she parts the petals
as the nib of my tongue dips
into the sweet pollen
this ink well of desire
that has inspired a thousand
odes to sheer perfection
swirling deeply within
the forever in her eyes


3 thoughts on “we make love and the world calls it poetry

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