Languid Lubricity Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

I stand stripped - naked - knowing his whim,
looking in the mirror at the sparkling gem
that hangs from the bracelet around my wrist;
and I smile to see him smile. I can't resist.

I don't breathe for I dare not break the silence -
the moment when he dares my defiance.
For then will he have me bent over his knees,
giving me an ecstasy as deep and rough as the seas.

His love is deep and true and can rush like the tide.
He encompasses me completely, and I cannot hide.
His approval marks the measure of my every pose -
languid lubricity united between the tiger and the rose.

My breasts and my belly undulating in their sheen,
a gypsy dance, a pirouette, a ballerina inbetween.
And all in this moment is but a preludious bliss
like the scintillating breath between lips in a kiss.

I sway on the precipice, between legions of desire,
my hair let loose about my shoulders like a jeweled fire.
It shimmers in the candlelight that in a circle glows
about the room - the heat of it - the heat of me - he knows.

A storm outside is brewing; the wind is in a roar.
I slide like a serpentine across the parquet floor.
My shadow, like a phantom, glides across the wall,
and I stretch to lay before him like a little doll.

For he is the master, and it is his game to play.
He can have me as he wants me all he has to do is say.
My limbs and my hips are under his command.
I let myself be loved by the movements of his hand.

He smiles down upon me like a King upon his throne,
and I am his Queen that no other man can own.
His fingers in my hair, he pulls me up than pushes down
wanting me to take in hand the jewels in his crown.

Such sweet collaboration between the body and the mind,
the magnanimous devices that the willing dare to find.
The delicious moves of dancing impale my mouth like a vice;
and confined by his fingers, I am his slave in paradise.

Inflamed with lust and fervor, licking up the path of joy,
I grasp him tighter to me, my dear delight, my wanton toy!
Every fraction of his length enjoys the sinful titillation,
the sensations of my tongue as it dances in veneration.

He lays me on my belly and pierces the tender sheath,
while his fingers wrap around frigging me beneath.
And in erotic madness, I move to meet his every thrust.
The vermilion lips of love drip in desire and raging lust.

My blood is on fire, screaming senselessly sensate -
a conjunction of the sexes in a quest to liberate.
The secret chamber of love is a monumental bliss,
the sweetest sucking sound of a primordial kiss.

It is bliss to have him hold me and fill me with his joy,
a sweet little crack I give for his passion to employ.
Our own secret universe and one galaxy in the cosmos -
languid lubricity united between the tiger and the rose.