A covenant of the flesh for Norma
Home from Sunday morning service
you hesitatingly undressed
and we lay across the bed
alive with fear and ecstasy,
your body clear crystal
in perfect afternoon light.
Surely the world was created
for this moment: my lips
and tongue caressing every inch
of skin as your rising breath sang
and the small birds of your breasts
awakened under my outstretched hands.
The first Sunday of summer;
your taut thighs spread and raised
in sacred benediction,
my mouth receiving their secret gift,
this damp taste of your sensitive flesh,
of your dark star burning.
