Watching Her

I fell into a swoon
a nosegay of smells
angel trumpet breasts
and lips
that led me down
the last
leading list
of civilized
thoughts.

My mind
emblazoned,
busting down
the barricades,
each trial
a new treasure,
and her nakedness
the test
of insecurities
yet unresolved.

Least of all,
a mountain above,
the rotunda
of sacred schemes
to see the winged dance
and the lisp
of her pleasure,
kneeling before
the garden
of my oval elation,
she stopped
the world
and all the domestic
fantasies
became a routined lap
once around the coffee table
and once around the bed,
the sheet folded back,
and the pillows stacked
in the center,
smushed
just so.

runningturtle87