Double Orgasmic Bliss

Your love is medicine,
the balm to my need.
Where shall it go?
Is it lost on the wind?
Spoon and fork,
I shall feed you my sin,
for my jubilee waters
are flowing, too.

I can’t stop thinking
of you as my servant,
bent between my knees.
From my valleys,
it flows south to mouth.
You’ve heard my pleas,
my genuflect pose,
and scattered clothes.

It’s all so uncouth,
this secret truth.
My rivers free of strain.
In this circumstance,
you declare your release:
It’s a morsel of paradise.
To the heavens we apply,
and gain free admittance.