You drop your idleness upon my spirit,
Your quietness upon my mouth,
Your beauty upon my flesh,
And your tongue runs like a whip against my throat,
A cave that echoes sigh after grateful sigh,
Dear woman, with tresses made of ebony,
Add all stones, and all pleasure,
To this form cast from wood,
And yours made from marble.
I had bled upon rocks,
With my wrists untied, when they were bound,
To each end of a cross,
And I saw each road out of Eden.
I saw with eyes crazed and frozen,
Upon flesh and stone,
Marble and bone,
Your form and mine,
Our desires do shine.
Simply give what the many lacked.
With eyes upon the ends of a road of white,
Virginity broken upon combined scorn,
Breasts carved from ice,
And nipples born from flame,
Your eyes show places tall,
For homes built small.
Seed has been sent unto the womb’s wall,
And love has been hung as portraits on empty halls.
Your beauty is a careful design,
Crafted by other gods.
They had not the hands that stole a stare,
Away from men so unaware.