Poem – “Symmetry in Two Left Hands” – Erotica – 12/5/2020

She is sculpted,
Heated upon a wire,
Ideal to God’s craftsmanship,
An overdose to my undercurrent.
Still waiting
With breath to be bated,
On the docks
For nectar, between her legs
Sharp as nervous razors.

With sadness to melt a visage
Into an untainted appeal.
I can lift
What cannot be
A veil, for her surrender,
For her nudity is a cold one,
When winter sleeps.

A beauty
With a throat as the steeple
Of any marvelous church,
And the legs
That break
Apart, to the slightest
Sinister touch,
Drinking of her excitement.

These shores await me,
Stain me
In caresses of unending scents,
In the smallest twist,
As she lives, buried
In my stomach.
For I devour
All that is meant to burn.