- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Meldings
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Listening in the night ,
lights glinting
off the polished silver
ware. Slow cuts
retroactive and retrograde.
what do We consume,
partake and sate?
Crimson flows , oozing slowly
Rare He said
and fed her achingly
fetchingly, clutchingly, somnolently
even; metaphysically, nay
Not That, the clangor rose.
Slovenly, sheets of misting rain,
covered the alabaster form she made,
running , a gazelle.
Salvatore did that in his paintings.
No no that was Salvador.
Achingly, clutchingly, fetchingly
she ran to
Him and melted
into One.
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