A uburn mane with sable streaks
tips frosted ermine — lush with pride
a bounce and whip, and sultry snap
with each stiletto’d wanton stride
taut hips roll high on slender stems
that part in ripples then enmesh
a brushing sigh of stirring heat
toned thighs gliding flesh on flesh
a stare of comely crystal blue
penetrates above a ruby pout
that takes you in devouring
has its way, then casts you out
tongue tip teases top lip’s edge
like supple paintbrush flowing
a smile to burn and hypnotize
that wraps around you knowing
if she’s near you can’t think straight
your brain goes dizzy — all off course
make no mistake she’s the reason why
the wild disturbance in your force
her beauty like a sensuous song
when she’s near — music’s playing
beware your heart not sing along
or soon your on your knees n’praying
luscious wench — worldly wise
sleek as steel — tall and strong
swift and cunning — motor running
she might acquiesce, but not for long
poor fool who tastes this lusciousness
is quite hopelessly addicted
there’s only one word for this life-force
that word, my friend, is — wicked!
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse