One, two, three, four…
fingers embrace,
a pulse that skitters
up my throat.
You’ve
timed to catch,
but extend that chase
through columns,
beneath silk skins — a fold.

A pressure like highs; I
can’t control,
slips sinfully from
my lips in
yours.
A last supper
of my pained outcry,
you break bread,
blood-red, betwixt my thighs.

A wave crests — one, another.
None you break.
Tie the breath I take
to thy eyes.
An hour,
as Poseidon plays
my perpetual lover,
caressed, now crushing,
cradling stems of a feverish flower.

Stringing ecstasies from violins,
sealed beneath,
buried inside me, hidden within.
The dark delights inside
a coffin,
cased walls white-washed.
Buried bones of skeletons
crawl, awaken,
kneel at your feet, whisper, “Amen.”

In unison,
the harp’s tugged once,
sings its tune of veiled intentions,
stripped of the conscience,
feigning holiness,
wielding truths
of a different son.
This one’s of Eve,
but not of Adam.