FIG

He offered  a fig with run-through-my-hair fingers,

Split it with a sex-in-the-afternoon mouth, 

licked seeds from  his ready-to-kiss-tongue.

I smiled  my  maybe-I-will-lips.

His I-want-you-eyes watched as 

I sucked at the juice with take-my-time-lips.

He whispered, ‘Bellissima,’ in an undress-me-voice.

The fruit disappeared, we gazed at the air.

He took a step closer on dance-with-me-feet.

I flashed him a hold-me-tight-smile,

Then  walked from the shop with  an I’ll-be-back-walk. 







More of my poetry can be read on http://www.odyssey.com, http://www.chanticleer-press.com/, http://www.vivimusmag.com/poetry.html