too long…

his itch roared years
one hundred seventy-nine
hours

sun exaggerated desire
like tales you wish you could tell —
sight of her, the perfect scratch

it had been too long
her hunger counted minutes like calories
her sweet ache a cavity
& cravings like this don’t have no number

eyes
lips fingering
      grasping amethyst-ruby chest treasures,
juiced & juicing
eager tenor of grunt-driven desire
her rhumba of renegade need
ignited frenzied amorous capoeira
tumbling linen trampolines

’til
union
the spot
head and eyes roll back
                                 willingly
in bliss of sandbox innocence

lips nibbled
remember involuntary spasms
conjured by tender tantric triggers
slow-dancing restraint to surrender

in summer darkness,
vapors rise
from nightfall flesh
&    mouths working long after words have failed

slumber’s tide melts them like sand dunes
outlined in honeyed moisture
distilled by their delight

by

jamal
ali

© 8 april 2003