Words That Trickle Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

He felt as if her very words,
each syllable enforcing such
had taken on the task of sonic speech
a function not unlike a lingering touch,
which leisurely released its hold
and trickled down as shallow breaths
immersing him to depths from which
a pink expansive force would send,
in pulses, a staccato of bold tics,
a stirring of erythrocytes, as they traverse
each vessel, hitting soon the wall
and finding fragrant petals open wide
to welcome lingual determined oscillation,
as lava flowing hotly, crossing flesh
meets shy demands of two insatiable souls.