On the Third Date

Don’t kiss me as yet honey,
At least not right now.
I’m not ready for your body
To comb my thickets or tip my sensors,
Nor do I wish to learn the language
Of love, this early into knowing you.
We are still buds, little closed rings of petals
That still don’t know,
The art of cross-pollination,
Just two bodies in the wind, blowing inward.
I don’t want to kiss you as yet honey.
It’s because I don’t wish for any light
Between my guarded lips, to be sealed.
I fear that, what will transpire,
Would be the need of my perfectly-placed
Fig leaf to abscise and from there on,
I fear to navigate through your waters,
I am petrified I will not be able to drop my sail,
For your body, like a brilliant lighthouse,
Blinds every cone and rod,
That convene my ocular reception,
When I will be nothing except
A beast called cyclops, with one eye popping
Out inside his bulging pants, and while near-sighted,
Throwing himself to a whirlpool, your one,
For you to drown him, all of him,
In your underworld, in that torrential
Maelstrom that love ushers in.
And what else but love – even prematurely -, can sink
A cyclopean monster, while colluding to
Flare a pirouetting tempest,
Blowing through, you through me,
Until the beast inside comes squealing out.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.