primal lust anticipation

we gentle her along at first

she gasps softly and croons to us

speaking in the language of urgency

we stroke her hair

attempting to placate

and soothe the terror

that comes from intimacy with a strange

yet we do not quell her tension

which hangs heavy

in the air like a taut wire

we trace the lines of her body

with a myrrh scented oil

anointing her as though priests of old

but unlike the lamb sent for sacrifice

her task is savory and thus quite enviable

sensing reciprocality

I caress and massage her into a screaming climax

while you watch hungrily

the wire twitches and slows

now having some slack to its tender length

pushing back the hair from my dampened forehead

a tightness has risen in my throat

I cannot speak and do not wish to

You leave her and then turn to me

Insatiable appetite in those

deep windows that fall straight

down into your soul

this act is far from complete