Questions
Questionable silence between
call of the lonely owl and
echoed nightingale when the dusk
becomes night and you lament aroused
arrival of your sensuality
white bed sheets sweating
breeze softening dancing
curtain pleats
were with your thighs, your moans
where is he? On whose face
is he spending his lips
whose body is he stirring now?
his fleshy fingers
who are they exploring?
Libros Libertad 