Thursday, April 22, 2004


All trembling in my arms Aminta lay,
defending of the bliss I strove to take,
made a brittle thread that could be stretched
with fingers, raising my rapture
by her kind

Her force so charming was and weak,
the soft resistance did betray the grant,
while I pressed on the heaven
of my desires; her rising breasts
with nimbler motions panted;
her dying eyes ran off
a metal spoon
in drops,

assumed new fires.
Now to the loose thread:
height of languishment.
She grew, a limp, sticky ball that
when removed from the water
and still her looks new charms put on –
a ball that held its shape and would not flatten.

Now a hard ball that held its shape
but was till pliable, the last mystery
of love she knew. We sighed,
and kissed: firm strands that could be stretched or
bent                                                            stiff.

I waked, and all was done,
that broke easily when removed.
Twas but a dream, yet by my heart
I knew, which still was panting,
part of it was true: syrup
changes from honey-coloured to light brown.

Oh how I strove the rest to have believed;
ashamed and angry to be Sugar undeceived!

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?