Centipede
When you touch me
I circle like a centipede
following to the rhythm of its coiling body
as you fondle hunger with your eyes
and I
feed you with my soft cries
the moon washed in the sky’s water
draped in the sun’s golden threads of ray
mind influence hands
to take care of an entire
body
with lust flooding in
marrying the hands of time
to painted white pillow covers
struggle
and
I breathe in
a fresh air of you
warm to the heart
and such memories old
still
survive in the soul
cold.
|