a journey over landscapes

Shackleton
De Soto
da Gama
Magellan --
surely they could not have felt
the wonder and trepidation
I feel
upon
wandering your landscapes, amazed
by the glory of what I behold.

hair spun auburn silk
eyes of melting blue
tiny arch of nose
and your mouth, oh
your mouth:
it unsettles, it sings, it calls
ruby red, quirked in Cupid's bow
tonguetip caressing underlip
in I-dare-you challenge.

Challenge accepted, offer confirmed --
buttons are popped, catches snapped
and your armorweave protection
slips
from you
puddling, pooling
at your feet

White: so alabaster, so fine, so strong
textured like marble, but so soft, so giving
your flesh yields beneath my touch
and sighs, moans, whispering gasps
announce approbation

Your back arches, your hips sway, your hair curtains your face
hiding
that intense gaze, sparing me
from its piercing spike.
Your mouth finds mine.
Your tongue fills my mouth. I kiss a piece of the clean sun.
Your note vibrates along the strings of my psyche,
drawn out and drawn out and drawn out
resonating, amplifying,
shivering through from bones to balls to brain
and making each tingle unbearably.

Your soft hand wraps around me
in benediction.
Your mouth tastes my clear nectar.
Your liquid center accepts me
fired with heat, softness, purpose.
Your secret smile is ages old.

I am unmade, not unmanned, by your intensity.
Not for the first time I wonder
if this is how explorers felt
on
their
voyages.

-- PB