Newton's Disc Poem by Jean Renwick

Sweet as newness on the tongue.
There’s a humming, thrumming, an infectious excitement,
bright behind the eyes.
Butterflies flutter elliptical orbits, colours obscured
in pinwheels rising to the throat.

Spinning through a vivid passage to that other place
Where heart-beats race and sharp slivers of desire
Mark and trace the path to ecstasy.
Tell me what’s the secret and I’ll be yours,
‘Cos feeling you just feels right.