Tuesday, March 13, 2012

the blood oranges ...



the blood oranges ...


you bring blood oranges
under the naked sheets of the creaking bed
where you peel each one with delicate fingers
ignoring the confusion of fruit exploding
in a shower of sweet juice
a drizzle of sticky essence
that you lick afterwards with a tiny laugh
as you throw your head down
over my body and suck the red stain from my freckled skin
and i awaken from disinterest to desire
lost beneath your soft lips
and the currents of your passion
that ebb and flow
like a scarlet tide washing my body clean
and in this baptism of your sweet salivation
your wet tongue dissects out the crudely singular i of a separate life waning
and transforms the moment with the healing waters of love's salvation
a liquescent absolution of my narcissistic solitude
a gentle rescue that revokes the murky sins of my selfishness
too long seething beneath the cracked soil of ageing disdain
overgrown with the dry weeds of my complacency
until at last i am submerged
amniotic and awash with a yearning to be born
into a renewed discovery of you
my lips finding the way and falling on the fruit you offer
tasting the succulent red pulp behind the mottled peeling skin
that divides and opens
under the coaxing of my mouth
until at last i relent after the shudder of your release
my every thought drifting to forgetful invisibility
as i drown beneath the flood of you
and dissolve with you into an ecstasy
that rebukes both time and timelessness

Copyright © Kennedy James, 2012. All rights reserved.

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