April 2021

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magma by Robert Beveridge

Too long, this foreplay

the touches, kisses, words

while we wait for the door

to close, the world

to retreat behind it.

Too long, your eyes shine.

Too long.

Clothes peeled back resist

separation from your flesh, slick

and moist in this July morning.

You are beautiful in this wet nudity,

eyes and lips glisten, hands dance

on air, guide me.

Our kisses, words have touched you,

built you to this moment. Threads

of moisture, thick and beaded, cross

above the valleys, the lips

that conceal the molten core beneath.

Each one breaks, melts upon the touch

of tongue, dissolves in delicious

tang of musk.

Your fingers, tangled

in my hair, shift and urge

invite me farther into realms

more dangerous, desired,

unstable. One caress of lips

against the epicenter is enough.

The seismic waves begin, course through your core

bring your molten depths

that much closer to the surface.

Skin ripples. Muscles

shift, rebound, erupt

delight an eager mouth

with a molten prize

like the earth, your essence,

that which is you, is contained in this.

Magma by Robert Beveridge
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Song title: Amour
Song by John Gentry Tennyson