Imagery of Lovers

She is my mirror of the night the violent flash of lightning her brown-black eyes are swords into my flesh waves between our hands She is pure love wild honey that seeps from a tree, tender sap that runs through her garden body that I savor We sweat the dew of lovers she the silent giver of new worlds all manner of fruit in her lips the red blood of the pomegranate the taste of purified pineapple My hands caress her rounded hills leading to shadowy valleys penetrating the sex of the whole earth her form are leaves of flowers my body rubbed by her fresh leaves We awake from the night and count the fingers of the sun we are silenced by fatigue she was my sweetest turtledove who cooed me to sleep last night...