Whether shameless or shameful,
sex, like a spy agency,
employs collaborators:such as patience:
you crave to nibble
the flushed apples
of September but must
wait for the sugared
ripeness of October.
Yes, you must get know
and gain the trust of
the one after whom you lust.
Later, urgent desire
arrives and contrives
emergency, thus sirens
of blood
rush to alarmed
sectors of
the body, where engorgements ensue.
Lust and sex: wily composer,
practiced dancer: their coupled
arts tease bodies to arrive
at the frenzied rendezvous
(the show must come-on).
And so, there is crescendo,
a supine peaking, wreaking
the loveliest havoc, coaxing
moans and gasps and extra-lingual
expressions springing from
primeval lessons.
And, of course, those immortal
partners: love and sex:
who concoct and cook,
ladling tenderness,
sprinkling wit--so that
lusty but listless giggles
sometimes spice the act,
as a matter of tact.
