Sinister: a poem. . .

[Brian McNeill]

Untitled

In the morning, shall you still see so clearly
remembering where and how my breath carved your body
tased each liberating pore as a bee a sweet flower.

Can you know how intoxicating your lips become
and how deep down they rage withinn me
till burning I cry, The Soul whispers softly
another kiss, another kiss.

When the heavens shake and shudder
the angels longing but one moment
Of all these lips have drawn from you
Of all your lips have taken from me.

Aah, give the Devil his dues without hesitation
for Desire arises fast and seeks its mate

Upon soft petals I'll lay you
where Lavender fills and oevrwhelms
beneath the heavens canopy, twinkling
I'll take your dream to lay with mine.





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