A Pleasure Bow

a poem that feels oh so good

Pleasure rips through me
and I bow
to an upwelling
of Her.

Ecstatically, I squirm
all the way down
into the floor
with the toes I curl.

Like a glowing ember,
the heat cooks me
into a mad bliss
and I am not me

but full of quickening
thumps and
gasps pumping,
pumping.

Pleasure rips through me
and my body aches,
my hands unable
to idle.

A stilling of undue,
flashes of you,
soaking my mind
of want.

Erect attention seeps
from every opening
and wholly demands
a tethering

to my own pool
of red arousal
gathered at my feet,
caressing the beat.

Pleasure rips through me
and there's a power here
to dance upon,
to see.

A power of access
to Her undiluted glory,
Her shameless whoring,
Her incandescent outpouring

filling my womb,
marking the tomb
of the dance swept,
with holy arousal unkept.

Pleasure rips through me,
and so I bow.


This poem is from the book, Healing: Cum and Dance. 

Photo by Sinitta Leunen on Unsplash