Only your hands at a height of my breasts

You have approached every centimeter of my skin,
Of my sex, of my legs,
You have measured all my spaces with your kisses
Coming to the bottom eager for the magic tenderness.
Your sex guards our point of balance
When I want it, and kiss it, to swell it with such force
Until the head dyed to a purplish throb,
And ready, sticky, and full of pride it penetrates me,
Rubs my clitoris in a series of sways
Against the manes of pubic hairs, between light and shade
You erase my body, inlaying it, encrusting it, absent in a glance and
Illustrate it voraciously when you spit in my carnivorous flowers
Your transformed desperation
(Brutal, mysterious and immodest possession...
Excrescence of my own flesh).
Now you are the door of the dream, a being transported in my
Infinite being and devoured flood of life-death-life,
Of light connected in darkness, I live and am grateful for your existence,
Avoiding the fall into the misery of the world by means of your embrace.


ROSAMARIA JOOS
Translation by Mark L. Melcher