In French, Please
soft …
slow,
deliberate …
verdant and cautious,
but yielding …
as if my lips are the chill of meltwater,
and yours are dainty toes, testing,
yet craving the plunge,
(I wait for your press, hoping) …
their delicate aperture widens,
the pulpy prize inside dancing with
mine like children in the rain -
dewy with delight,
and pensively playful …
our thoughts tangle like seaweed in surf,
moonglow dabbing your lids,
as I peek through the slivers in mine …
can you feel the thrum in my chest?
it is yours, darling,
as surely as light is the day’s -
you are the Braille my hands ache to read,
but that language is far too
wordy for a moment this precious -
this divinely dappled …
let those things take care of themselves -
let this world spin on, unattended,
for you and I are of a quest, rapturous -
a meeting of the
malleable and marvelous sort …
a sacred, whimsical pursuit of the
most wondrous and
savory treasure imaginable …
our …
kiss.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, September 6, 2022
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