her
if love is a dove, then i
am a serpent, she is
my apple, not sin
disguised by the feminine
i embody the masculine, hungry
for the sun, she ripens
in my hands, planted firmly
in her womanhood
a kiss of a thousand tongues
i travel on the pale landscape
of her body
beauty of the biblical sort, coiled
in picturesque, glistening
nudity, for my eyes
to enrapture
i find myself wishing
my camera could capture
this moment, i witnessed
her innocence returning
i don’t have the Midas touch
though it is electric, i have shocked
this topper into submission
like Hades, i’ve abducted
my Persephone, i will feed her
the seeds of a pomegranate
she will be bound to return
to my sanctuary, when summer meets
the lake
the lake meets the sand, i’ll meet
her halfway, on waves of ecstasy
when a gift turns to light, paint
turns to wood, the borrower
becomes the giver, the seed
becomes the tree, we will
have grown from our experiences
i’ll lounge in the shade, sip
vanilla biscotti, inhale
the delicate, sweet fragrance
of the moonflower, i’ll chew
on the image of her, as she
twists and meanders around the flesh
of my memory
© 2007 Colette
By Colette
© 2009 Colette
(All rights reserved)
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