Two lovers: Limber and Lithe,
lithic and mythic and always in time,
with license to lubricate in a libidinous lather labial lusts that call out, “Oh, faster.”
He’s mastered his rod, gives winks and nods,
gives praise to his God and keep his sword shod:
whispers sweet nothings, giving fodder for her rapture, if only the moment were preserved, were captured:
Her arching back, her heavy breath,
the sweat that glistens upon her chest,
her calls of “yes,” the sweet aroma
upon her hair as he holds her.
Kisses her shoulder, her ribs, her hips,
Licks her nipple, her belly, her lips,
slips betwixt thighs as he rises to occasion,
eliciting from her such sweet, succinct, elation.
Flip: she falls into fellatio,
eliciting from him all responses on the ratio,
Hamlet was right, should have listened Horatio,
for here’s where there’s more than heaven and earth:
here, from where there comes birth.
Nearer now are two souls,
swathed and swaddled in mirth,
holding each other,
forgetting who, precisely, came first.