PENKNIFE

i like that loosely falling hair
lightly tucked behind the ear
that makes the wind seem so severe
in the early morning light

i like that pretty pointed finger
maybe pointing at a thing or
maybe heavy with a ring
like a dewy blade of grass

i like that chunky laden flavour
that swings about with your behaviour
like the fragrance of arabia
like the jasmine of japan

i feel a softly surging force
that could calm a nervous horse
i feel my heartblood gently course
when my wars are in your hand

i like your cheeks that billow out
i like your milk spill smile
i like the furrow of your brow
i like the systems of your style

a poem about lust…