No response to that question my heart
when strong late and the pulse quickens,
your tongue whenever poaching
my belly dancing encourages
grooves by wet
is that warm water
-with different magic-
flooding my way
the beat clandestine
rhythmic humming that familiar image
arrested in every corner of my source
Your words in my
moves silently
germinating groans and sighs over ten thousand
still no response
and hides the sun so lucky both ...
