By Bud Koenemund
For "Her."
I write so oft' of my respect for thee;
Assuring my heart's allegiance to thine –
A bosom prized above the air I breathe –
Begging thy hand; our fingers intertwined.
But, lust has o'erwhelmed thoughts of purity,
And desire craves thy touch on my skin,
While we mock the curse of avidity –
Two merged as one in consecrated sin.
Passion swells, demanding release boundless
As fantasy; yielding all; submitting
To nature, and each other; a guiltless
Surrender to hunger unremitting.
Though I seek no
grace for concupiscence,
I pray my true love will pierce thy defense.
