A string of words

As blood is
            as words circulate
in the poet’s mind
            and fingers touch her lips
the pulse of her handsome blood
            beneath the hollow cheeks
the delicate porcelain smile
            below the naked eyes

She built of nature’s delight
            handsome in her womb
in the warmth of her blood
            morning noon and night
she presents a silent
            revelation

Her scrupulous kiss
            he takes on the fly
savours the soft bright wet
            tenderness of muscles
in which a wordless song arises
            contained in herself
a promise never meant
            to be broken

John Lyons