He touched me like a prayer, discreet
As if the words would bolt on wings
If his mouth gasped a bit too wide, so
We prayed at the doors of Silence,
My waistbeads trembling like wavering faith ,
His hands drunk with fervor, I think
I heard him moan "Slow, take me to God".
He touched me like a poem, in metaphors
His lips wrote metres on my swollen breasts,
Tracing stanzas on my cocoa farm, he rhymed
Between my thighs, and when his tongue
Spoke in enjambments, I heard him stutter
"Ah...you are a poem in metres...
and every line_
Tastes like worship "
🦋