Herbert Nehrlich 2
Touch Me - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich 2
Silly how the heart will flutter
at the sound of violins,
how the time repeats the utter
urge to yield to lovely sins.
Waves in tireless rendition
lauded by bright frigate birds
bring small tides in repetition
and the silence of sweet words.
Touch my skin and call for thunder
fire shall engulf the sky,
molten wax send me asunder
on Mons Pubis I shall die!
Let me kiss your aureolas
read to me, caress my bum,
lick those crumbs of Gorgonzola
off my lips and serve us rum.
Shall we drown in waves of sorrow,
love me to the dawn tomorrow,
raise your pelvis in defeat.
When the sun has warmed the breezes
at the portal of New Lent
we shall eat Italian cheeses
vowing never to repent.
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