Heat

Her image a heat stroke in the eyeballs
Her blood steams off the sword, crackling~
And the room awaits, drowning in her fillings.

Her sex sits, yawning.
As if having a life of its own, up to no good
gazing at the strange watcher
Like the breathing ember of a friendly fire

Her breasts exaggerate
a weight too ripe to bear,

the pressure of her pink knees
still press down, claiming new boundaries
for its resting place

Unspeakable beauty of her bare back
undressing itself--- now pink and ivory!
growing plump and soft one last time
Straining to shoot out savagely

and amidst the slurping musk-
A brisk, sweet taste!
A frail and rattling scent
between the slithering wall and floors

A soul, Almost a soul;

filling the barren aperture of meaningless lives
with a long forgotten taste of the unknown.

Her sex sits, yawning, straining.
A last bead of sweetness festering
on its molding hinges,
rebelling against her aching weight
Still bubbling with the fever of life-

Darkness dampens all around the watcher, quietly, early.

Only hours
Before life forgets
the shape of this one.