Let us love like lesbians, and eat
The salt sauce of Life at her secret throat,
And peel the velvet fruit she hides beneath
The folds of her fur coat.
You want a romantic sunset in the poem?
Here’s one. But we need more time, if we’d as lesbians converse.
I’ll give you the rising moon as well, and all the stars, and all night long
We’ll love and rummage through the contents of Life’s purse.
For that is how they do it Dear. First a long and lingering kiss,
And then a little conversation. Yes. Kiss me again.
Talk to me. We have time. Have I told you this?
Life has no better fruit to eat than love at leisure with a friend.
Fuck reality. Take my hand. It slips inside yours like a glove.
Command the sturdy tillerman who guides the gondola of Love.