Too Much?

21 Oct

When your deft fingers

Pound out the rhythm

Of an infectious beat

On the taut muscle

Of my left thigh

You enter me.

 

You’re proven

Your stamina, your virility

Are legend carved in stone

As you chisel out

A two-minute drum solo

On my shoulder

And let your fingers fall

Spent, where they may.

 

When casually almost

Dreamily, you tap out

The chorus to our favorite song

You are the Morse code operator

Deep in enemy territory

Delivering a message of impending peace

That comforts the dying soldier

And calls the living to quiet action.

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