Mystic Tubes
Trees with fruit of supple desire
Orange frayed with her fire
Desert winds sigh like whips
Her lips consume my crypt
Bask in wet sumptuous brass ships
Evening moves with sequined silk
Lost on islands of golden nectar
She brings me the inside rivers
I am beaten like smooth olive oil
Alley Cat prowls the night
Screens open with rain
Chacras open to her wolves
She comes into the gossamer visions
Wet hungry panthers
Cryptic whispers in the shadows
Welts and scratches
She is awake like satin ghosts
I am laid for hours by mystic tubes
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Added by Poetry Lover
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