When passion strikes no walls are safe
We ate our second lunch
in the verdant lushness
of the park at the Cathedral
subcutaneously annoyed
by the paperbag crunching crowd
hungry for more than strawberrries
out of each other's hand
we slipped into the shadowland
of Azaleas behind a supporting wall
I held you from behind
and entered your sacristy
with hymnal cascades
and afterwards
there was mortar
on your lips
where you had
neither gnawed or licked
it was not a sacrilege
but a sacrament
not a blasphemy
but worship
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 511 times
Written on 2007-07-07 at 11:37
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There was mortar on your face
We ate our second lunch
in the verdant lushness
of the park at the Cathedral
subcutaneously annoyed
by the paperbag crunching crowd
hungry for more than strawberrries
out of each other's hand
we slipped into the shadowland
of Azaleas behind a supporting wall
I held you from behind
and entered your sacristy
with hymnal cascades
and afterwards
there was mortar
on your lips
where you had
neither gnawed or licked
it was not a sacrilege
but a sacrament
not a blasphemy
but worship
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 511 times
Written on 2007-07-07 at 11:37
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
