Toe-trace the contours
of tender ribs and veins,
as she rises and falls beneath you.
The slope of her shoulders,
her undulating mane,
plunge down to drown your heart in grave blue.
For you, she whispers,
for you. The supple plains,
the hard packed bounds your fingers drew.
Mine, mine, you conjure,
over bucking waves,
across the hills you try to subdue,
where you are stopped, dropped
entombed,as she rolls infinitely on...