Tenuous grip on sanity –
that scent of man –
tendons on a turned neck –
the gesture of a hand –
Flex of muscles on a leg –
– I can resist this! –
To long – it’s been too long –
– I don’t need this! –
A hand is raked through hair –
a thought, a hope, a wish –
wispy clouds of breath
in winter air; mine, his –
Your palms lay out the background
with the heat they carry in them –
the heat that in the dawn of our species
was granted by the core of our Earth.
Your fingertips then paint me
with their liquid fire –
clothe me in a cobweb
of invisible tattoos –
an intricate masterpiece
of flesh and nerves
that lasts as long
as I do.
Personified sunset; you’re a delight.
Your golden skin made orange, pink and red.
Irradiate your light as if indeed it might
be coming from within and not without –
as if you really were what you seem now;
the Sunset in my arms here on my bed.
’Stretch out your leg and bend your arm,
look to the left – sit still.’
I stay poised in front of you
while you the paper fill.
And then a new pose, and another
on and on again –
what heat spreads throughout my form
as you draw yet again.
What strength of passion do I feel
while your mind’s bent on art –
while you draw my naked body
and observe each separate part.
Can you not see my heartbeat through
the skin you solemnly draw –
do you not feel the heat in the room?
No? You just draw and draw.
Still poised for your artistic pride
I wonder here, alone,
how strange and how mysterious
a feeling – to be drawn.
A pale shining light
cast in darkness;
a dream tapestry
on which I might
imprint my desires
and write my hopes –
with or without
your knowing consent
I’ll cloak you in them
till your days are spent
Yes, I guess you were too delicate
for the touch of my lips –
too delicate for such a passionate kiss;
such qualities do you irradiate
Delicacy you irradiate, gentle spirit –
I can only lift you towards the sun
but you yourself must lay your hands thereon –
if that be your wish