Kennedy Calls to her Love

Shifting Sands

What movement of hand or eye
Can pull the pendulum of my lust
That my tongue, my mouth
Hungers for taste
Of your brine?
I long to feel the heft
Of your weight
Nestled in my hand;
Breathe the heated musk
That is your scent, alone.
Throbbing, I sit, as though
In perfumed seraglio,
Awaiting you pleasure,
Craving to feel you against
My lips, my face.
Echoes of Lunar events
And Earthquakes break
Across my skin,
As desire shudders through me,
Anew.