i do not want your heart
like a baby does a nipple
i do not want your soul
like a priest

i want your hands
to soothe my ruffled skin
to send unending legions
rushing up my spine

i want your lips
to enfold me
as the ocean would a corpse
washing me clean
with the serpent of your tongue

i want your breasts
not fountains to a babe
but mountains to an eagle
i want to rise and fall
as they do, as you do

i want your belly
smooth, silk slide
to my inebriate fingers
guiding them home
suggesting the way

i want to be there
lost and found
in your sacred fragrance
'neath curling tendrils of golden hair

1976
for wendy