Archive
05/24/11 - (2)
In the Half-Dark
Sitting naked, in the half-dark, at the desk, In the midst of scribbling a poem about the Chicago fog Enshrouding downtown when we arrived there, three noons ago, That ubiquitous mist shifting, skittering, scudding Between the Magnificent Mile's shimmering mountain peaks,
I sense you twist gently, roll slowly over, under the sheets, And I turn, fix your serene being, in my eyes' camera obscura. Your silent breathing draws me to the edge of our bed. You're lying on your side, my right hand caressing your left breast, The smoothness of your flesh beckoning my lips to your nipple.
Suckling is an ecstasy I must have known so long ago That even those echoes have lost their sound, taste. Yet, listening to your soft, satisfied sighs and moans, A primal pleasure comes floating into my blood, arouses my heart. You rise, bend into my throbbing body. Your lips suckle my life.
05/24/11 - (2)
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