Imagery of Lovers
She is my mirror of the night
the violent flash of lightning
her brown-black eyes
are swords into my flesh
waves between our hands
She is pure love
wild honey that seeps
from a tree, tender sap
that runs through her
garden body that I savor
We sweat the dew of lovers
she the silent giver of new worlds
all manner of fruit in her lips
the red blood of the pomegranate
the taste of purified pineapple
My hands caress her rounded hills
leading to shadowy valleys
penetrating the sex of the whole earth
her form are leaves of flowers
my body rubbed by her fresh leaves
We awake from the night and
count the fingers of the sun
we are silenced by fatigue
she was my sweetest turtledove
who cooed me to sleep last night...
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