- Erotic Poetry
- The Eyes of My Lips
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Your skin’s path
is smooth and taut, clean from bath.
Your soapsuds from within
cream along the length of my smile,
and I explore your geography:
Your mother was your architect,
your father, the contractor;
I and my lips will learn to adopt this prize.
Pleasure and measure intersect,
and when you’re way back,
knocking on the bell of my tonsil,
my eyes go up inside my skull,
though I only see heavenly black.
I am blinded by your light,
and my mouth is my only seeing eye.
And I, I accommodate your leaking eye:
The gift inside every pair of slacks,
of which I’d serve for a fistful of greenbacks.
Guide me through the forest of your hair,
for your sacs are loaded with ammo
of which I’m happy to taste with a flair.
Slither down my throat like a snake,
into the garden where the seeds are sown.
Your groans are music to my ears,
your perspiration a heat to this winter,
and for the first time
my body pools apart by Cupid’s quiver.
