Passiflora: Passion Flowers Poem by Mark Heathcote

His hand, sweaty palms, his fingers
Slipped to her nautical waists, tether
Tulip-red-petal-lips press together
With a stamen, tongue twining
With lingering dreamy longing.

Whilst their flowers-clock lost time
He stripped her out of all her apparel
And she came forward in rhyme
Rocking back on his calypso carol
Support needed, she leaned back.

Headlong like a sunflower lolling
Amongst his arms, like a megalomaniac
Shaking her head to-and-fro
To-and-fro, to-and-fro, alarming
In ways of the first flowers deathblow.