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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Warming of Her Pearls
Warming of Her Pearls
Next to my own skin, lies her pearls as my mistress
bids me to warm them until evening
while I’ll brush her hair. At six, I place them
round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her,
Resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk
or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself
whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering
each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope!
She’s beautiful. I dream about her
in my attic bed; picture her dancing
with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent
beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.
I dust her shoulders with a rabbit’s foot,
watch the soft blush seep through her skin
like an indolent sigh. In her looking-glass
her red lips part as though to speak.
Full moon, her carriage brings her home. I see
her every movement in my head…. Undressing,
taking off her jewels, her slim hand reaching
for the case, slipping naked into bed, the way
She always does…. And I lie here awake,
knowing the pearls are cooling even now
in the room where my mistress sleeps. All night
As I feel their absence and I burn.
By nutbuster
Next to my own skin, lies her pearls as my mistress
bids me to warm them until evening
while I’ll brush her hair. At six, I place them
round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her,
Resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk
or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself
whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering
each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope!
She’s beautiful. I dream about her
in my attic bed; picture her dancing
with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent
beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.
I dust her shoulders with a rabbit’s foot,
watch the soft blush seep through her skin
like an indolent sigh. In her looking-glass
her red lips part as though to speak.
Full moon, her carriage brings her home. I see
her every movement in my head…. Undressing,
taking off her jewels, her slim hand reaching
for the case, slipping naked into bed, the way
She always does…. And I lie here awake,
knowing the pearls are cooling even now
in the room where my mistress sleeps. All night
As I feel their absence and I burn.
By nutbuster
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