To lick her breast

The marble stairway

Winding like a snake

From my room on the second floor

To the lobby in the hotel

Which carried on into the street

Where I would follow it for city blocks.

Waiting there with the tapas and beer

Was a drunk poet,

Ready with the words to fill any empty space

With a lifetime of thought.

The verse, not unlike the architecture

Screamed aloud

Cried out to me

For it had been waiting decades 

For someone to view it

To lick her breast

Penetrate the long abstinence

Of mind and body

Finally one with the forgotten thought patterns

That had died with the others.

Once again to be kissed

And lay there with gently stroking fingertips

A lover

Longing to be held


Tasted lips.

The deliverance of hope

Through the eyes of the wanted

Those often written about

Painted on sturdy canvas

In immortal bliss.

Soaked in olive oil

Each tattered step

Beloved in wisdom


A deep chance of being.


2 thoughts on “To lick her breast

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