What I Want

What I want
Is your desire:
The unbroken circle of Spring and Fall,
Flow and ebb of hunger and satiety.
Permissiveness cannot appease:
Your blush, your trembling, your need alone.
I love the hair I touch,
The smooth softness of your cheeks,
The parting of flushed lips inviting a shared breath,
Your eyes fixed on mine with wanton earnestness.

This is something I want for us,
For you and I:
Warmth pulsing through us like ripples of sunfire;
Pagan rhapsody of earth and sea at their mutual borders.
My secrets are yours, yours mine.
What place is there for shame?
Your breasts, more potent than any prince's decree,
Your hips, the temple of Nature's grandeur,
And I...
I am kindled by your voracious hands,
Grasping my shoulders, back, and buttocks
As we come together in a divine tempest,
Our slick flesh sounding like waves on a storm-tossed pier.
No, I am not afraid now, not ashamed
To abandon my senses to the flames of your furnace.
What fury could be so hot
Or so tender?
Our sweat drenches the satin sheets;
I breathe its heady, aphrodisiac pungence,
And I know from your gasps that you love it,
My skin on yours,
Our double embrace.
Your loins clasp my tender part feverishly,
Shudder a cosmic "Yes!"
And we detonate in cries of catastrophic bliss.

Breathing the air, still hot with our fire-dance,
We collapse, exhausted.
Are those tears I see in your pale eyes?
Lo, I am here, my darling.
Your puppy needs no leash;
I am drawn to you like a bee to a buttercup
Because you give as you receive,
Receive with joy as you give,
And to be naked with you is
To forget all pretense and vanity,
To pleasure you a servitude sweeter
Than liberty.

George Chadderdon © 1995