dressed in your skin,
the ancient bounty hunter
having trapped the virgin
and opening the claws of the trap
to close around his waist
cutting him into halves
writhing in that lurid agony of prurience
and realization
that there is no return
from the virgin’s skin.
I count spiders
carrying invisible ribbons across apple trees,
I count needles
sewing the mantle to pine trees,
I count minutes
growing the belly around sequoia trees
and drilling devastation holes
in the time bulk separating us
waiting
for it to collapse into raggedy pebbles
upon which roads
our bleeding toes finally meet.
open those legs
let me investigate the miracle of recurring virginity
in the sacred seclusion of that inguinal hideout
and fill the lands beyond
with the death of withered flowers blooming
and the despair of fallen doves soaring
and the dread of forsaken cubs roaring
and summer.
open those arms
and let us compete on heart size
and chest size and emerging drumming size and nipple size
and count of ribs and decay of flesh in between crushing fingers
when muscles atrophy on the blueing expanses
of rebelling blood stains
and the red blots of coal sizzling
and summer.
open those lips
in surrendering admission
to the well between worlds of flaming pale skin
and eternally missing eternity
ingurgitating the sweet drivel off tongues
and the noise of teeth grating on teeth and sand and glass
when lungs join into the humidity of one enormous cave
and the genesis of that ancient scream
cuts through our humanity
and lasciviousness
and summer.
you lie, pale,
panting no longer,
and I caress your white plains
letting the sirocco pouring from my fingertips
burn scarabs
upon that of your skin
enveloping us.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Magnificence is far too inadequate of a word, my Friend...your writing always surpasses the best superlatives I can think of. Your talent is fierce & undeniable; I can see the luminescence from here. Superb penning, Scribe. 
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Each stanza is a story, the whole poem is a love fairy tale. This poem reminds me about a summer walk in the wood, up to the mountain... My, my... what a poetry, it brings back some pictures on my mind.
~Sonja~
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Your pen always leaves a powerful imprint on this reader, my friend. I am never disappointed! This is absolutely stunning in all its glorious images. The colors, smells and feelings in this are abundant. No one writes love like you. Though I was completely captivated by all of this; these lines stood out to me:
...I count spiders
carrying invisible ribbons across apple trees,
I count needles
sewing the mantle to pine trees,
I count minutes
growing the belly around sequoia trees...
I adore the metaphor use hear. Using the words "ribbons" made something I cringe at seem so beautiful. And; the "Needles sewing mantles to pine tress..." Just Wow! I am always amazed by what comes forth from your pen, my friend. Kudos!!
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Ah..love is wrapped with the wonders of the poetry and with the thunders of the immages..well done....my friend..
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