"I am still a pale slip of a girl
The orchid from which you drink... "
The orchid from which you drink... "
Toulouse-Lautrec, The Bed 1892.
We are damned.
This is not meant to be,
this as you undressing me,
carefully removing each piece lovingly,
slip unslipped. That slow-easy smile I know, have known
Your fingertip just so, you know, I know
I am still a pale slip of a girl
The orchid from which you drink,
colored, calico lover cousin once, twice, over.
A honey bee searching you buzz, you buzz, you buzz.
I would faint on your couch.
I would fall to my knees and pray.
Hold your hand as we pay due penance,
I take you into me as the sun fades, an apricot.
as the fireflies flash their greens,
as the evening vespers begin.
Other poems by Sadi Ranson-Polizzotti
