His sting infecting germinating within her,
that simple ring, that small sting,
a wondrous thing sensuality.

She engages his admiration
swiftly and fully two children to love,
two lovers to birth two more hearts in hope.
Without knowing of the other, only
exploring one another,
finding each other,
changing into some other.

He cradles her with penetrating
eyes, and smoothly rhythmic
words, that warmly touch at the
virginity that is she.

Two lovers of the world,
making love their craft
loving word and depth and sound
then turning inside upside down.

Poems are a poet’s thorn,
the love we make is word and form.






//Sy




AN: Really struggled with the lyricism and timing on this one... to the point where some of the content seems to have suffered in places. Worked this one over a lot, but I feel it could still use refining. Any thoughts or comments are appreciated.