Sing, my tongue.
My blood full of perfumes,
intoxicate me.
My breath passing
through my lungs,
leave belch’d words
and kisses.
Embraces, arms
feel the procreant urge,
this mystery.
Every organ, hug and love
the fever of fitful nights.
I am erect
where I sweated,
your tongue spread
around me, stiff or drooping,
the flag of my life.
Is any one luckier?