INSTEAD OF A LOVE POEM

What pleasure do you get from tormenting me with kisses?

Ah, but I wish I could caress you like the wind.

How I long to fall upon you like the rain.

Like Puck I would anoint your eyes with the juice of a flower

so that waking you would look upon me and pity my suffering.

Naked, I go in and out of meadows

searching for the blossom that took Cupid’s arrow.

I bring you all the flowers I can gather

but none of them seem to work the magic I desire.

Next, I burrow deep in the belly of the Earth

to dig out the precious stones,

but even these leave you cold to my embraces.

So, instead of catching starlight in a crystal,

I will tickle you with a peacock feather,

I will stroke your belly with a rose,

I will shower you with lilac blossoms,

I will spread the nectar of honeysuckle over your breasts,

I will rub the pollen from a thousand wild orchids

over the finely polished marble of your flesh.

My passion will overthrow your resistance

as I take you rapturously in my arms.

My hands will slide over your belly and your breasts,

I will envelop you like a storm cloud

and come down upon you like the lightning.