Madness of the Senses

I saw— A pillow of kohl drifted through the holy palace blue. Flowers burst upon the stalk of a wayward grass, A beetle in a spotted gown sipped a bead of dew, A ray of light splintered, and the sky donned a striped dress. Your eyes, pearls. I heard— Feathers pierced nocturnal winds like a morning prayer, The beaks, like scripture, all day in a foreign tongue did sing, A puddle swallowed drops from pillows, an echo-chamber lair, In the darkness, crickets drew their bows across their playful strings. Your laughter, bells. I smelled— A flower calls a butterfly, its petals aiming up, A wet clod swallowing autumn leaves so brown, Hot coffee in a glass cup, A burning candle, its wax slowly whittling down. Your body, perfumes. I tasted— A cracked palate washed by the first drink, Fruit juice splashed into a cold throat, Airy bread and sea salt upon tongue buds pink, A dessert, a sugary coat. Your lips, wine. I felt— Bubbles in my chest imprison short breeze, My bare feet upon the ocean’s sandy crest, The sun, first my head, then my face, with its rays shall tease, Head upon a pillow, a weary body at rest. Your skin against mine. I loved— Only you.