i yield to You
as flowers yield,
slowly opening
to rain.

i slowly open
to Your exacting rain,
the soft ropes
pulling back
against my arms,
lifting my white knees
to my breasts,
spreading me lewdly
to whatever You might wish.

i am content.
opened, i feel,
before i feel it,
the long slow slide
of Your hot sex
up deep inside me,
the pumping sigh,
my body's reach for it.

my petals slowly open
to the rain
that You would bring.
open, i would drink,
down there,
the liquor of our species'
long survival.

And You.
What is it that You feel,
sliding up
into my wet gift?

What is it
that You feel
in that long slide
up deep into my heart,
as i moan my fealty?

What is it that You feel
when i open so much
that i can never close

1998 Lillith M.

Poetry Index