byLauren Hynde©

No longer silk, it's October clouds
the interior warmth of your thighs;
my tongue, a vessel advancing through the night
of perilous channels with familiar Hispanic names,
the scent of ravenous sea unfolds in velvet,
in my mouth, shattered the mystery of the algae;
your body, below, welcomes rain and breath and dawn.
And when nautical ventures become faith,
when the altar becomes navigable
despite the rain and thunder, or because,
when the more I sink into your skin,
the more I find, and learn, and mix,
on the littoral crest suddenly enhanced,
the ritual of scream, the ritual of moan,
and you realize this homage's for you
I finally possess you, I finally reduce you
to a glove,       a sponge,       a goddess,       a ship.

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byLauren Hynde© 1 comments/ 7185 views/ 0 favorites

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