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a somewhat sensual vision on Margate Street : Sunday, 11th

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      (iv) voice...
reverberating ultrasound syllables
her breath
ALL wax lyrical from her gold frond tongue
dripping maple syrup rhythm
all over
              & through me

gold rush pulsing in my veins
to the tune of a hypnotic narcotic. 

her tongue is an aspergillum
soaking me
from head to denim
in holy water
& my once bland arid gard...

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Precious Stone

She had gemstones 

masquerading as eyes

And tears of diamonds 

upon her porcelain face

Her ruby lips whispered 

pearls of infinite possibilities 

      And there stood I:

Cubic zirconia, nickel, and clay

But somehow 

she made me her equal.

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