In the style of Denise Levertov, poet (1923-1997)
Three years the poem
of your body, of my
eyes upon your body
of my hands reading
each muscle—
Stroking, sweeping the
scent in the rite of
worship, going down
from the beat of a neck
vein, along broad shoulders,
twisted hair trail,
belly to cock.
For three years that poem, unwritten,
trapped in my mind, not wanting to
share that I lie with Dionysus,
fear that women would take my treasure
or a god, hearing my boast, would end you
~SPL
shannon p. laws 