Bacchanalia
Let me brush my lips
gentle over the base of your throat,
turn my tongue at your collar
and caress your cheek
with the fingertips of my desire
Let me wash
a thousand insipid verses away
with a few drops
of lust as pure as lye
Let me kiss you smooth
as you relax in bedside candleflame
and trace the hollow shadow cast
with a longing tongue
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH). Recent/upcoming appearances in Pulsebeat, La Presa, and The Penmen Review, among others.