Love Poem: Kings Before Your Hand

Kings Before Your Hand

Go out,
show your naïve black hair,
sponge-like and strong and dripping water
because you just finished washing it.
Brave and proud, that's what makes you
the most enchanting of the evolutionary world.
How did you chance about these beauties?
Did you not notice
how kings are kneeling before your hand?
They want to ask it the big question,
unlatch your heart's gate
and take you home, that is,
to personalise you, possibly by
finger-cuffing your second to the last finger.

You said you don't like the position
of the moon today. It's my fault.
I should have shifted it further up
so that it'll be shinning on the scalp
of your head with your hair black and beautiful.
I can do anything for you.

Women are like early morning bird
that perches in our heart corner
and sing wordless songs, over and again.
Sometimes you don't understand,
how hard it is to choose between your
spongy-like hair and your succulent hand
which you use to play with the moon
like a vase of finest flowers
scented by the breathe of the gods
whom I video-called ahead so they won't eat garlic;
my grandmother said garlic brings bad breathe!

How do I explain ovulation as distinct from 
female accidental discharge or what some
animals feel as heat period? We all have ours!