Free Verse # 368 (checkmate, orgasm, poetry)

Photographer unknown

All day all night
in her skin
dancing with the muse,
each etched verse
a chess move;
the spiral culminates,
checkmate, orgasm,


Your belly
the altar on which I place
petal by petal
all the poetry of the world;
set aflame
your skin drinks the ash
and you become
the world’s poetry.


If I could touch her I would choose to quiver her heart with poetry.


Of his breath
she constructed
a seashell
and therein she slept
cradled all night


He ached
to rage over her
and into her
like a wild storm,
pressing her into him,
a seed in his soil,
planting her spine
in the dirt of his being.


I could only touch her the way sunlight caresses the face of the earth in the early hour of dawn.


A small cabin
in the heart of the woods,
snow falling thick
erasing everything,
and you and I
hemmed in,
by the window
drinking tea or wine
and reading poetry.

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