'Got any naughty thoughts today?'
he asked lazily
as I contemplated what I could see
up his pants leg with my helmet light -
'Something slow and gentle and langerous,' I said
and found his attention piqued
by the proposal of a slow dance
and passing the time
with our clothes not quite off...
So we dug out some Bob Marley
clingy and embraceable and slinky
'Perfect' he said
with that almost whisper against flesh
and the soft clucking of past conversations
swirling around us while the earth dipped
hip to hip, lips to neck, nipples to chest
I remember when we used to sit…
you can sing along if you like
softly, in my ear
everything's gonna be alright…
gothic talk and tangled tongues
oh little darlin', don't shed no tears
(no woman, no cry...)
Unwittingly, we evoke thousand-year-old rituals
this dance a spontaneous act of magic
like wearing the skin of a lover in the rain
the psyche follows the rhythm of the cosmos, where it
harmoniously mingles with the universe,
mysterious
hidden
sacred
We are slow to burn, pausing before
the lightning strike
that long drag holding out for sparks --
this is how it feels, inciting the raw fire
unhurried at first, that little flicker of thought
that ignites into burning frenzy
deliciously, convolutedly slow
with no awareness except the rapture
ready to go panting and stroking
before succumbing to ice...
Dance with me…
©crisstiena
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
sheer poetic brilliance. 
