© Sauce*Box, Fall 1998. All rights
revert to author.
Return to
Sauce*Box Fall 1998
I hear the resonant tones, a bass melody,
I hear bells, chimes,
Drums in the distance,
Chanting.
Somewhere there is a guitar, that strums in the night.
If you want to go slow, I doubt you.
For I know how the passion builds within me,
Like a slow smoldering crescendo.
I can feel the pulse beat at my temples,
And the throb beneath my heavy breasts.
Heat spreads like the serpent,
I feel it writhe down my spine,
Tracing its sultry path over the roundness of my hips.
There is a lump in my throat, an
Unswallowed tangible ache.
I want to feel you there.
Run my tongue across you, sip in
that pearly drink.
* * * * *
Your critique of this work is appreciated.
Please e-mail
the author.