The sun is crawling into its throne
as we lie here. My genitals hang
between my meaty thighs like fruit
as she catches fire & moves onto me.
My muscles wake & fill as the weight of breath
spreads wide. I watch as the same mouth
that panted under the gauze of sleep
drapes my erect skin. She is a painter,
slowly stroking each stretch of veiny canvas.
I feel as though she is plowing through me,
sucking pearls of soul out this sierra frame
of moisture & salt. I am collapsing into myself.
She is beating pleasure out of these corpuscles
with a garden of tongue & lip, jeweled spit & rhythm.
How easily she peels me open, lays lengthy rows
of hair aside & stirs each rosy curl of nerve.
Full from desire, I cannot reserve myself. I surrender this world
& sink through bed & board & touch the milk of sky.
Stars parade under my face, breath
becomes music sweeping long & high like
Delta-born howls & coats the blooming day around us,
heavy & rich.
Originally published July 2009