divinity descending

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   oh, the so-sublime motion of your sway
 dressed in naught but the moon's wisps
sole fascination of the gods themselves
 should Valhalla ever hold the refinement
    to abide such flawlessly beguiling rhythm …

           from heels to hips to dimpled shoulders
              you toss your birthday outfit with intent
               seductive swing lassoing my gaze, entire
              the drift of your narcotic motion blooms
           enough to best the Gardens of Babylon …

    yet the whitest, purest blossoms known
 would blush to crimson for the sole sake
of your unblemished, magnetic contours
 the stairs and stars, swinging in tempo
    to the dance of your fair and fluidic flesh …

           pray these eyes, do not ever blink again
              lest I chance to miss an instant of that
               saucy, sinuous, room-sweeping saunter
              pray this heart, do not ever thrum again
          lest it interrupt your perfect ... cadence.








Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, October 18, 2019

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