tagErotic PoetryIt's just Lunch

It's just Lunch


Rain on stretched canvas percolates our conversation
in rushes, pauses and complex melodies

a celestial tabla player playing ragas
in the London monsoon

You pluck a wild English rose from the trellis and stare as
beads of cool water roll off the petals into my mouth

Roasted cardamom pods and cloves stir the air in a glorious orgy
Slow food is as good as foreplay

True enough, the shine of your wedding ring gives me pause
I worry how this ends but then

Under the table you have ripped a hole in my panties
and your fingers are worrying instead
Oh God

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byDesejo© 7 comments/ 1651 views/ 1 favorites

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