Breaking the Palm of Dawn

Thirst, vast and great
stirs in my chest
in the hour before dawn
as I move over you,
a wave of tender greed,
mouth suckling eager
at your founts
of honey and milk,
fire churning down my throat
and permeating my body as,
half-awake, the flame in me stirs
and thrusts into your womb
slow, rhythmic, and deep,
flesh shivering and melting
into warm sacred tears scattered
in the ponds of our merged faces
between wakefulness and sleep,
two bodies bound infinite
inside a succulent love-dream,
shaking as the honeyed milk I suckled
flows back into you,
hot lava, seed scattered deep,
mystical union, delirious fever,
love, a magical oneness
breaking the palm of dawn,
a tender, white flower.

6 thoughts on “Breaking the Palm of Dawn

    1. As surely as the sun which is made of light can only give light. As surely as the lover’s kiss upon one’s heart would bring one’s truest essence and soul to the fore, bursting like a milky fount.


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