My Lady Of Damask
Into the sustenance
of fish bones and prayer
audacious climber whose expected, expectations
shape her – shape to come
For when one's mood is of occupation
a swirl of atoms blown softly in
shades of ladies blushing cheeks.
Long caressing summer days fall to set
casting fire-kissed strobes of light
between the loosely layered fringes
of her languid fingertips.
So that she – with the
sighs of every maidens passion
who bridal dressed, caress
about their bouquet
of gentle lovers fashion.
All shall leave triumphant amid those
pungent lingering fragrances
nocturnal tender pleasure -
Sweet o Sweet the queenliest flower
for truly vibrant is she
my Lady of Damask...