The concave of your chest beneath
my cheek I'll never know again.
The spiral turn of ornamented eyes
I'll never see.

Your absent starry arms--this night--
have left me shivering and cold.
Your hundred kisses to my hands and lips
a waning memory.

We wish so long to hold another
dear and warm against our flesh.
And when they go--from the aches
inside our bodies we are never free.

You are gems--your
hair November citrine dripping
sunspots through my fingers--

Your eyes--October moments--white
with opals coursing forth onto

The threads of rubies in
your cheeks from
pinkish burns of mid-July.

I'll kiss your toes in our
December when they turn
to chilly icicles of--

topaz--Blue and shivering against
my lips that long to warm you.

Cherry blossoms are the
diamonds that spin
spirals down your spine
while April breathes--

--a hundred garnet prayers enfolded
in your sapphire hands.

Your shoulder blades are butterflies,
swathed and bursting from

Your back a decrescendo
where my lips devour

Your spine that drifts as
lullabies--undulating choruses
that roam along

Your rolling hills of buttocks
that smooth paths amid
the reeds toward the valley of

Your knees, two tender treasure
chests of golden setting sunlight--
kaleidoscopic rays that glimmer gently on

Your toes, those several heirs of
ten ecstatic kisses from

My mouth that hunts and giggles at
the flesh between your thighs and to

Your stomach where I sit so I can
look into

Your eyes where the sunlight's growing
cold and the moon glows vast and clear--
but frosted over slightly by the haze that is

Your lashes splashing spider legs
and shadows 'cross your starry eve of

Lips that I would kiss
until the sun ran dry of magic
and the earth disdained its spin.