My mouth on your vagina revives me.
My tongue in your vagina reveals my
hunger for you, releases prisoners: frees
early thieves of terror to let them fly,
redeemed as missionaries of passion
preaching gentle verses by massaging
my tongue on your precious clit, sweet ration
of your inner self, soul somehow passing,
mingling with my saliva, making us
perhaps each other, marking us perhaps
as legends to angels who—taking just
briefly bodies such as ours—sense deep sap
of ourselves flowing as one, sacred verse
of our come cries flooding the universe.
Roger Armbrust
April 26, 2011
