Lost in your arms
TV transforms
to boudoir bathing.
Claw-footed bath
where I recline odalisque
your strong left arm
curved luxuriant
about my lathed waist;
foaming water undulates
and r o c k s displaced,
wet-laps as cream
silk-tongued from flesh.
Long legs en-tang-led
and toes slow knowing
soft-stroking skin.
Your heart lowbooms
and e c h o e s
break ing waves
that re son ate
soothing sonar sounds
of my content - ment
Oh, we are only
lying horizontal on couch
your right hand becalmed
in my welcoming hair
screen’s lights flickering and oh, so
wetly wavering
why then,
my love
am
I panting?
YOU ARE READING
Borealis Love
PoetryLove - what does that word mean, what does it comprise? Do we always recognise it when faced with it? Do we value it when we ought to do so? Do we squander it when it is too easily given? Do we ever understand until it has left us and we are left to...
