I write with you still on the tip of my fingers …
Table scraps of memories and all the places you bring me by the slight twitch and dip of
your muscles
I know nothing like your brand of love and thrust
Not lust,
But divinity
And the sacred energy produced by the rain,
of crashing elements.
Foggy and sticky,
You are in a lane
of your own
Super Saiyan patterns of flattery
The bedroom name “Goddess” falls from
Your lips with ease
And proof of how you’ve missed the alchemy of my chocolate
Strapped down by stardust
Chiseled as if cut from Greek god-cloth
Pre-cloth
Divinity inferred
And fortified at the seams,
Sealed in Onyx
Black diamond of perfection
You wield weaponry
That threatens me, to escape the barriers
Keeping me on the peaceful side of the barricade
Striding down streets with the fire of protest and implosion
Washing away anything I’d known about how the night might end.
Days begin,
Suspended on your lead
Cheering on the twerk of my hips
And calling out Godd when you see her!
…. Amani O+
Read Full Poem at amanipoet.com
