Her Sustenance
Her lust for you is fierce.
She spreads it out before you
as if it were a lavish bridegroom’s dinner
of caviar, oysters and shrimp;
spears of warmed asparagus and
artichokes stripped of leaves to dip in luscious butter;
truffles too with fragrant muskiness;
all foods of succulence - inciting appetite.
Her tender lips are moist - champagne to further whet desire.
Entreating you to take your fill, she whispers in your ear,
“Partake of me, my love. Take more and more.”
As you imbibe her and consume her,
your feeding frenzy peaks
when she offers from her fingers- sweetest fruit:
honeyed figs with cream, peaches, plums, and kumquats;
and one red well-ripened berry.
Utterly sated,
drunk from delectation;
motionless, you lie upon your bed.
And when your eyes move rapidly
beneath their heavy lids,
she slides her body carefully off yours,
slips back into her gossamer gown,
hastens on tiptoes to the door; turn the knob;
and without looking back,
steps into the blackness of the night.
You'll waken and want to feast again
but find that she has parted.
(to banquets such as hers,
one rarely is invited more than once).
And so you'll live and love,
knowing that you can never resume -
a coupling so completely gratifying.
Your passion was consumed in
your consuming of this goddess
who takes from men again. . . and again
But the nourishment that she requires
must always be fresh,
and that is what
eternally
sustains her.
A Revised Oldie for the Heart of Seduction Poetry Contest of Justin Bordner
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