black velvet on yellow horse mane

black sunset licks with a velvety tongue
toads whimper listlessly, longingly in the night
her body is placid and as sturdy as the trunk of a tree
the cloth on her shoulders folds neatly on top of itself
she takes me away with hearty words and tickling thoughts
slanting downward, pushing forward
leaning toward the cliff of feared expectations
she comes in to me, sinking, bumbling, loaning moisture to the night
tainting the horizon with shades of yellow, one stroke by one stoke
further down, closer in, frolicking upward and about the tip top
like horse's mane thrusting in the wind
the lines in her cheeks sleep solemnly, the curves in her arms tight and hungry
she awakens to courtesy, we cry out beneath
this touch is furtive, feral, and fertile
it brings feigned apples of excitement to new portions of my skin