Buddha Baby

Sit cross-legged, Buddha baby.

Shut your eyes; go blank.

Arms out, palms up on each knee, and

Breathe, my fecund mystic!

.

Candle flame of quiver, glowing,

Halves your face in orange and black.

Buttons down your blouse-front loosen,

Victims of my fingers' fumbling!

.

Down your sides this open shirt seems

Less a top and more like vestments

Donned by virgins on a stone where

Master readies them for love.

.

Measured paused. I reach inside

The black and orangeness of your front.

Spread the blouse a bit more wide,

You gasp but, darling, stay shut-eyed.

.

One breast orange and one breast black--

Candle-litten eye-trick! Both

Nipples, though, each catch some light:

The dark breast can't quite hide itself

Completely from my moving hands.

.

One word, "Play," I speak out loud and

Then your hands are freed to plunge where

Flamelight has no chance to reach.

And I? On knees now, cock in hand,

Slide it into fingers, palms, and

Frictive brushing skin sounds mingle,

Singing with your chanting moans.

.

Time is naught, for we are now.

Edge-clung, I abate my hand and wait.

Buddha baby's almost there! Mystic

Pleasure has her locked inside her

Mind; she knows I watch, my

Glans but inches from her chest whose

Nipples twitch and jounce in rhythm.

.

Vulvic kneading at her darkness!

Mystery movements are to me

Strange rites -- femininity! She

Breathes a mannish lung of air, her

Mouth agape and frozen: there!

.

Launch my hand with savageness.

Cast the mess! The spatter shots so

Forceful, heard, like fingers drummed

On canvass tent walls.

.

Palms she lies on knees again,

I lick her breasts clean of myself,

Prostrate myself before her feet

And kiss the palms still finger sticky.