Lying on the bed, I think only of love:
The arms that warm my chest in frigid air
The lips that keeps my own completely wet
The legs that wrap like vines around mine.
Of no use are these satin sheet, for their
Warmth is unnatural - spurn by machines
From dead petal, without their aroma;
Yours is like a million flower beds.
Mix your burning cedar with my varnished
Mahogany so that our flames and heats
Might equilibrate; purse your lips
So that they might contain all of me.
Copyright ©2010 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem