lab, about the dissecting of frogs I sensed
something
what if aliens came and saw us as frogs
a delicacy
or an experiment?
I grew out of that in college, only to
relapse when on a trip to the zoo
this gorgeous girl wanted
me in the woods, and I saw all the squirrels and rabbits
winking , the moles poking heads out of holes
and her blouse undone,
I sweated , trembled , took her breast tenderly
in my hand
it felt like heaven,
when she touched me back
I thought about that dead frog
and how we stuck electrodes on his legs,
I twitched
I shouted
think  that was the first time I danced,
in fact I know it was.
from there on out it was more ***
education with a hint of biology.
And we danced the night long with
no more thoughts of frogs legs twitching.

A kiss dissected,
A gentle worship of your mouth,
That warm place my lips called home

He came to me
as if in a dream.
Manifest out of thin air
by time and life,
And pure desire itself.

I knew him
yet
it was the urge
to discover him
inch by inch
that drove me to
abandon all sense of
propriety.

I surrendered willfully
as he undressed me,
His hand firmly on my breast,
our lips sealed
in a continuous embrace
while hands and body
thirstily searched for skin to hold on to

I was in a daze,
savouring the moment
with a slight nervousness
unbecoming my usual self,
but appropriate for what
was taking place.

A long awaited affair,
fulfilled suddenly,
On short notice.

One night of abandon
In a hotel room
By the ocean
That lasted long after the day broke...

Take the words
out from my mouth
please chew them well,
don't spit them out
Swallow them
deep into your throat
let them circulate,
let them float
into your mind,
into your heart
with my words
         inside you,
we'll never part
        and if
the time comes
that you should speak
in sharp punctuation
across my cheek
know that I might,
for a second,
hold my tongue
before it unfurls
   and becomes undone
it might lash out
in a burning sting
from the shock of
             the lexicon
that fervor brings
but then rage will
melt upon our lips
in satin threads
                 of fire
that burn their tips
and no temporary storm
will declare our pain
in language sacred,
and then
               profane
I'd rather bind
my lips to yours
let the waves rise up
           on speech's shores
let the tides of
forgiveness
spill out in phrases
as the moon whispers
bliss in hidden phases
and we'll forget our
periods and commas
and grammatical structures
as polished vernacular
      turns to animal lustre
as we slide to the floor
verbal cannons unfired,
                             unheard
finally at
     a loss for
             words