Like New

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Even though you have touched my body

again and again,

I am still like new today,

rising in the dawn of this morning

to breathe with desire

for your hands,

as though it were

the first time.

 

I am new

like America was,

inhabited for thousands of years,

and yet still waiting

in dappled sunlight,

coffers brimming with gold and chocolate,

to be discovered.

Naga

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I travel on
a taste.

I explore my world this way.

A mystical journey through chocolate corridors into lushness of coconut palms and spice gardens;
a barge crossing
through the backwaters of God’s own country.
A quavering high pitched singing
undulating on the breeze
to beating drums,
carving the air, fragrant with jasmine blossoms and acrid smoke,
to the silky shape of
erotic devotion.

There was a golden light-filled room
that I entered
in a dream
before I arrived.
Sacred, mysterious.

I was filled with wonder then,
and burgeoning hopes like tender lotus flower shoots
nourished by a tropical monsoon
of sights and sensations.

This gem
on my tongue,
cacao, curry powder, coconut,
rich and transporting,
takes me back
to the other side of the earth.

Blow Me

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Blow me, mold me, shape me,

into Woman,

poured into the glass of your hands

like rich hot chocolate.

Drink me in.

Eat me for dessert, bring me to your lips,

lick the bowl

of sweetness between my hips.

Cup your hands around my ass,

carefully, delicately,

break me open, hard and wide,

then smooth me

with a caress.

Drape your manhood around the soft curves of my body

for me to hold like a warm blanket

through incandescent winter nights.

I will tell tales in my dreams

for you to finish.

Like glass is formed from grains of sand,

so is a story formed,

from many tiny moments,

all crystallized within the raging heat

of the heart’s workshop.

So blow me, my dear glassblower,

into the shape

of your desire

and I will blow you.