I sign your thigh
flourish my pot
belly as maybe
a sensual distortion
of your bearing
hips stretched pink
below the elastic.
You don't know the flow
of red tickles
nuzzling smells
behind your ear
lobe
until the tingle
gooses your spine
less lover
I am at times
of self
only.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem