Finding The Golden Rod Poem by RIC BASTASA

from my head you follow the
contours of my eyebrow
walk upon the bridge of my nose
follow the furrows of my skin
and pass upon the grasses of my hair
you shall climb the hills on
my chest and slide upon
the muscles of my arms
rest a while on the plains
of my abdomen and
proceed some more
on the the lower valley
of my strong body

the veins your maps
that your lips must
gently follow and then
with your bare hands
right at the center of
my thighs you grab the
golden shiny rod
an ember sword
of the kings
hidden in that pot
at the foot of my rainbow.