Thursday, February 27, 2014

Fantasy III



Should I lean to my advantage,
Dare appose my lips? -
Would she hers?

What sips from that delicious wine
Might do for me?

Cleavage, snug in black,
Taunts a thought -
Plains of areolae
Wait in for evening,
When she relents to blood-filled hands
Hankering, restless;
I'd render her as art,
Track her curves
Like pencil over tracing paper;
Be her pioneer,
Charting out the waves
That silhouette her form…

A signal -
Glint of eye -
Flash of moment,
Teasing, telling play of naked forms,
Euphonic moans tuned to sleuthing fingers:

Therein the jolt; I move,
Accommodating balance.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012

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