If You Were Mine, I Would Live For Your Love Alone, To Kneel at Your Shrine, I Would Give Up All That I Own

A Sinner Sits for Sacred Sunday Service
Singing the liturgical tones of
sexual ardor
I move
to your taciturn tendencies,
exercises in silence;
a sojourn in discipline;
momentary lapse of reality–
how many times
will you make my eyes speak to you?
breathless,
I whisper across the fire,
begging pour le deluge.
tes yeux de glace
precipitate desire,
but
my
eyes
are only for you–
waiting to again make the
carnal sounds of coitus:
a litany of pumping hips
the chorus of animal sounds
guttural,
primal,
as I lick the sweat from the hollow of your
throat.