Am I Too Bold My Love? Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

May I be bold my love?
You said yourself
we ought to not hold back.
It came to me the other night,
do you recall,
you stuck your digit
without warning
in my face,
and slipped inside,
encountering no
Résistance,
and played around
with tongue,
came way too close
and almost touched
my uvula,
teased salivary glands
and scratched
which woke the hyoid bone
but it was not
this bold activity
that etched the deed
into my mind,
how shall I put it
it may well have been
a culinary touch,
and, for a connoisseur
which I take pride in
to have been
a lifetime now,
it was a summit, yes,
it ought to be explained
yet words do fail me, love.
While I was savouring
and salivating
(likely from the
glandular massage)
I said a dozen prayers,
even though I doubt
that God himself,
rebuffed by me
would really be of help,
but, low you went,
behold you did
and, one by one,
all fingers peeked
and slipped right in,
it was a steamy feast.
I did, I'm being honest here,
for moments lose
what I had come to do,
the thought had vanished then
and bold receptor cells
inside the skull
sent signals to the front,
the sella turcica,
there would not be,
this night of nights,
a further use
of hormones to be sent
into gonadaland,
this may suffice,
and it was heavenly,
until the felon spoke
and said it would be strange
to leave the golden fields
with all their fragrances
and with their bees,
without partaking of
the offered fruits,
and he was right,
thank God for common sense,
and so the time went on,
and things were kind,
there was the evening sun
just leaving with a smile
and words were heard,
one word was Camelot,
a castle in the sky
to which all kindred souls
retire for the night.

What I was meaning though,
to say,
to ask you,
love,
is somewhat odd,
it would be best
if you could guess
or I could be a mime,
words don't do justice here,
but, since you do insist,
I wonder,
would you mind,
or even like
or grow a woman's scorn
if I could come to watch,
I am quite partial to
the little stalagtite
and like the way it points
as if to say this way my boy,
and i would promise
to behave,
be silent if it suits,
I'd keep an eagle eye
upon the cave,
and wait,
no matter what it takes,
(I do not mean to rush) ,
until the little river flows,
its lavalike eau d'or
will come to see the world
and would be greeted
by an eager tongue,
I have been dreaming
sweet, am willing to discern
with you, if matters told
in earnest as a wish
would get the nod.
So, well, does this,
mean I am truly odd?
Don't answer that,
it matters not,
it's you,
and only you
who must decide,
and to assist,
I shall be here,
right by your side,
resting my head
on either knee
to help with thoughts
society has placed
like barricades
before our joys
and it is best ignored
what spinsters say,
I know you will be fine,
and see our way,
as after all,
the thought is really shared,
having evolved from you
and me, the two of us,
whose love has grown
by bounds,
so let us leap,
into a bed of silk
and linger there.