Archive
07/11/10
Sunday A.M. Caesuras
I
This gentle-touching Sunday morning, Your breathing is an ocean Lapping my cheeks' shores.
Were it to cease, I would be no more.
II
When I was young, Sucking my thumb was a gratification Far exceeding all other pleasures.
Now, your thumb fondling my tongue, I rediscover the source of my erotic yearnings.
III
Our massaging palms and fingertips, Seeking secrets yet in our keeping, Explore the mystique of our bodies' contours.
Before history sweeps us up, in its mists, We discover love's destination is us.
07/11/10
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