Archive
11/28/10 - (4)
Sunday Morning in Three Parts
I
You and I, lying together, in bed, In extended embrace, this endless Sunday, My head nestled in the soft stretch of your neck, My chest, thighs, and knees Aligned gently, in perfectly sensuous harmony, With your muscular back and supple buttocks, Are one of Michelangelo's unfinished slaves, Locked half within, half outside, A colossal block of Carrara marble, Our breathing keeping the cold stone heated, Our bodies, our blood, throbbing, throbbing, throbbing, Our spirits paradoxically locked in perpetual freedom, Our souls forever coalescing, Taking the shape of infinite hopefulness, Our energies suffusing Michelangelo's boldest dreams, With our ever-disclosing love.
II
The warm, smooth, fluid pool of pure quietude, Which buoys my naked body, Is you, beautiful, nubile Linda...all you.
III
Down the entire length of your slender legs, My hands explore, stroke, As if warming them for a performance, All the while sensing that youthful energy, That vital life force, Which, so long ago, suspended your balletic psyche In an illusion of gravityless ecstasy That yet keeps your feet Hovering just above the floorboards of my stage.
11/28/10 - (4)
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