Mayflies

Mayflies

a sleepy moon arises
into the June skies
filled with glittering
mayflies on a wing and
a prayer together, as
they flew as one with
so many souls to count,
these clouds of those
who by innate, inner faith
take to this path winging
just above these waves
that lash the abutment
of that old boathouse,
that sing those songs
of the sounds of wavelets
whose lullaby is exciting
to those who seek sleek,
velvet places where the
songs sling them to, those
long, humming voices heard
along the lake's length,
past hammocks suspended high
between lover's nimble limbs
for in the moonlit room
where the French window's
open screen let slip those
tender figures of liquid speech,
the sweet wine lifts to your soft,
pliant lips as seemingly they mime
the same sounds coming from just
below the open French window now,
both you and the waves murmur
together the unmistakable sounds
of lip-lip, sip ... lip-sip lip...
over and over again as I add my own
langour to the richness of this very
night's tastes of liquid speech, only
mine finds you in your nakedness within
the clutch of moonlight gleam, atop
the bed as you grasp the covers as
I tease you at first, you glisten
and you glitter in the softest light
like the mayflies in final flight
as the satin sheets ripple silverish
and commingled as I seek to spread
my languor further still, your sudden
hitches of hidden breaths heave, trying
to hide those lyrics you silently mouth
to me as the waves entice down there
below, that "lish-wish lip"
lisped to me, deeper into a cadence
of love that reaches all the way into
your fingertips as I feel your nails
trail their broad arcs, like billowing
sails or upon the angular wings of a paired
nighthawk's grail ... in our shadow-
darkened room lit by passions and lunar
fires, the corpses of tree shadows wash
outside our window soon to meet the Sun's
rising pyres help me urgently find
the timeless tempo ... helps me find
that very source of enormous release
within your cornucopia folds from which
just like the now-insistent waves lipping
and lisp-lapping like a feline feeding
for you are coming ... and coming ...
rippling themselves repeatedly through your fingers
across my shoulders, tugging muscles taut within
my neck ripped like dock ropes upon the deck as
I open your nectar flowing down ... down ...
as your pleasure peaks and repeats upon itself,
as the mayflies I release from within your chi
chooses me as their lover this very night when,
in that old boathouse as amid the crush upon crush
of your waves of pure loving might, I hear them
speak their magical chant repeating, oft heard speaking
slip-slips-lip-chuff-splish-lishlash-woo-puff
upon the sands of timeless truths spilling
through the hourglass as the owl calls outright
and the greenish, now-emptied bottle of sweet
vermouth lays flat, you emerge to surface amid
the myriad light diamonds upon your moon-kissed
mouth that breathes the breath of love's desire
sated, singing timeless songs in my arms as you,
my beautiful mayfly, now having been freed of
earthly bonds for a little while, are released
as I kiss both of your closed, beautiful eyes
enabling you, o' gentle lover, to take wing into
the very depths of your deepest, deepest dreams...