muscles slung blonde strands
tawny straights snuggling
against your *******(like me
on the clump of your
unrigid stomach taught
over your creeping)

           I hast spake
           with thy timidest
           notion
           briefly
           small pouncing
           wrists
           on your hands
           supple so
           chambers
           flung wide
          
your bones
          are the words
of every poem
                         i have
                                     writ
                                                                                                                                 (not even the wind
                                                                                                                                   has such soft