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.