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divinity descending
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
Copyright ©
Gregory Richard Barden
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