Expose of Passion

You ask me now to sum the beauty in sun's eyes And make of love the distinction that love despise And all figures come only to my praise of the gift God gave to Adam, when he unreplenished, adrift Midst loneliness and impotence, found sleep blessed To wake and find his rib enclothed with loveliness Would you call the virgin mother frigid, cold Who felt God's heat and furnished men his gold Zeus too often imitate and did not once procreate Beyond the fiction of the mind. All flesh fornicate That cannot yield like Mary did to quiver and moan To bear the first command to all; all pleasures groan. The stigma then maligns my rib and cuts my breast For only truth is beauty in all her virgin comeliness Undemured, undefiled, stained by circumstance, and pure The heart aches for beauty and found in Eve no cure Just Mary Magdala, my passion's patient bride Goddess of the penitent, queen of desire's tide That like the moon brings sweet glow upon my bed She copulates with the sun, and trees that naked shed Themselves, like arthritic Simons, pay in rich spice To luxuriate in the pleasures of her passion and vice. What then her breached external form a little stained The rich stream of heaven kept not disdained. Measure this then against rebellious Eve, who crave Man's pleasure but disdained to concieve; the rave Of her autonomy to be as god, and provoked the earth To crown an Astarte, Anat, Venus, Aphrodite as worth To which some like Delilah or Helen made men bow And worship in wine drenched mud the grovelling sow Think of it, I never thought my mother panted or sweat To shed a seed, for her purity repudiated such a threat That I was concieved by the pleasure that first the pain Mother is too chaste, and stainlesss all mothers remain The mind rare permits sister or daughter expansion of gene And yet unweb the stigma projected unto the queen And where the stigma sits their lolls the brooding heart Aflamed, the loins deep ocean longing to break apart The solid rock that love strike to feed the egg athirst The tongue languishing to bulge night's breast in verse The hand to strip the curtain from the flesh, the skin To meet as one, joy in joy, and love in love enmeshed.