Don´t give me skin of damsels, brushed with
paint of sun,
I crave not the golden honey, of dermal beach-side
fun,
No bronze nor copper hues, of pheasant´s burnished
feather,
No tan of tanneries, none of dried, cracked
& beaten leather.
Give me only your skin, that of moonlit moth´s
soft dustings,
Tracing of your river-weed veins, in ancient
& primitive lustings,
Your precious skin, of alabaster silk &
perfumed magnolia cream,
Give me your skin of old petals, where dying
roses go to dream.
Let me kiss your satin skin, your cloak of
pearly whale’s milk,
Let me caress your fine-spun coverings, as fine
as spider´s silk,
Your veil so transparent, where through your
flesh, I see your soul,
And within your mantled skin, our love protected,
we´ll enfold.
No comments:
Post a Comment