As our next anniversary approaches, I am emboldened by a friend here to share this one from my psuedonymous book of erotic poems:
On that first night, you knelt beside my bed
As at an altar in the soft, low light
Upstairs in the confusion of the forest.
You, who ever afterward would own me,
Rained tattoos of sudden heated kisses,
Subtle bites, shockingly loving strokes.
You spoke one time of God and not again,
As if pronouncing grace before a supper,
Then feasted on my flesh as I on yours
Until we both were sated for an hour.
An hour passed, and we must start again
As if on fire. Although no longer young,
We recognized somehow the open portal
To a new life torn from our flesh combined,
Beginning as if we gave birth together.
That life, now twenty-five, matured in beauty,
Took its best form, my kneeling to your touch.
This order gives us peace and strength unfailing
And wonder that love still could grow so much!