Pommelled fruit

Back up against a tree,
golden foliage shelters the curves,
freckled islands, a desert
of smooth sand, gripped by palms
soaked in the sweet, salty sweat of a summer night
squeezed of the juice from a fallen fruit.

I smell of woman

I smell of woman; skin lingers on the tongue,
Dry mouth, wet lips, and thoughts loiter on.
Scared, lost in hair and night;
Found in arms, tense and tight.
Driven to reveal the hidden
Tracing curves with light tips–smitten!
Need I apologize to the girl I might know
And this girl’s groom as he screams “No!”
Before this darkness binds us.
our conscious finds us as
We fall down.

God, please forget.
All like a dream now?
Except the regret.