Dance with me.
Fold me over in the swirling cape
of your ocean’s breath. Cast me
beneath the coral shores of your
luscious hungry eyes.
Hurl me – spinning like a topsy-turvy toy –
limpid, ragged, splayed against your
crimson crashing reef, crushed upon your
lovely lyric shores.
Oh, send me to the moon,
to the moon, in a torrent of
churning, burning ribs and joints,
limbs and hips and bones and fingers,
spine, bending at the molten core,
backwards beneath our floating toes.
Elbows, held in ceremonial convulsions,
fanning the flames of our communion,
flapping our wings in ancient ritual,
archetypally eroding into a frenzied
celebration, a frenetic flight beyond libido,
a statement of eternal yesterday, unassailable,
unrepentant, anxiously awaiting the dawn.
Your periwinkle eyes, your petrified
thighs, all deceive me and weave me
further in my wastrel’s cave where
in an instant, I find my self: Venus,
Isis, Hera, Eve… Helen of Troy,
slaying every heart, calling
every sword to arms, to my arms,
to my waiting arms, drenched
in a tiger’s balm of instant amnesia.
And I spin and I spin and I spin
in an ever closing spiral,
pointing to the sun.
Like a crazy whirling Dervish,
in an endlessly twirling world,
I surrender. I’m a ballerina bauble,
wrapped up in your electric tango arms.
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