Imagined
as we dance
and our bodies touch
and embrace;
as we go through routines
at work each day;
taking note of unveiled
interest
at our favorite cafe;
as we hang out
expressing passions
over wine and cheese,
pretzels and beer;
always conscious
the next trip-wire
may be a heartbeat away.
When triggered,
passion is quick to boil,
as overheated lips, tongues,
fingers, poles and holes
become drunk and slick
when bodies move
respond and connect
to the scents
rhythms and heat
of passion.
1967
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem