My Tropic Night
O how I pine your lips to feel again
To sip the honeyed fountain of your youth
And let your milk wash me afresh like rain
Cuddling to its breast the wet blistered root
I want to disrobe you like night the moon
And let the drums of our drunken hearts moan
In silk sheets of wind, my desires are swoon
In the lap of memory: All I own -
My fingers lingering at the curves, keep
Deep tumults of joy, O moon, come again
The rod is green, and too erect to sleep
In this slow rise and fall of pant and pain -
I remember too, a brown, dusky light
I before you burnished ... my tropic night.
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