curve of subtle hip
like the throat of a lily
in her own garden
soft, sensual palms
sensitive as a windchime
or strings of a harp
cupped little hallow
finger the crevice with musk
it moves when she speaks
silky line of nape
sweep her thick mane to the side
a private curtain
slope of small of back
like a smooth desert sand dune
awaiting cool rains
feet beneath her silks
like walking bowls of service
lotus petals fall
knees knelt in symbol
decorated in perfume
rise in jewelled fire
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
5dec08
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