P assion
let it flare fire red
red as the shuttered windows
of Paris rue du limuze
that conceal the carnal
intertwined
on a starburst night
in the throes
of steaming conquest
ripe with release
coursing with hunger
for the tender flesh
of reckless passion
white hot
as a deflowered bride
burning with the lust
of an august first-night
impaled on the horn
of promise and desire
there will be no truth
in these minglings
only raw bleeding need
and the quenchless thirst
for bittersweet
forbidden nectar
when you hear
the hushed whispers
know that it was so
and so it will remain
in the lithe loins
of the skin slaves
fully aflame
behind Paris red shutters
”Harlot” by Andrew Atroshenko,
*
rob kistner © 2023
Poetry at: dVerse
