When i lick you
it is homage to the Goddess.
The pleasure flies up your spine,
you twist & moan, & the Goddess is well served,
but you are not the Goddess.
These temple walls have been here longer than the
world;
this bed is only given us for an hour.

So we divest of masks,
our names, our roles & offices,
why we have come, where we will go afterwards,
all our mundane identity; & we divest
at last, even of the mask of Desire.

Just to belong for a time in the sacred precinct.

As we shudder into sleep, rockingly soothed,
immense with ecstatic promises,
let it go unremembered
uncommemorated
let it dissolve.
We cannot bear this waking knowledge
past a hazy somber longing
& mute poignancy...our scar-laced hands
blindly seek to clasp of their own volition
as you sit beside me in the car
talking of triple lives & the need for caution.

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This page last updated on Wednesday, 13 August, 2003 3:31 PM .