a delicate touch
upon my shoulder.
I see no one —
is it my imagination
a daydream, perhaps?
or am I in the presence
of a sprite,
a sylph,
the elemental of air
why are you here?
is it to remind me
of last night’s dream?
where I kissed you
at the back of your head,
eyelids,
nape of your neck,
shoulders,
inside your wrist,
at the bend of your elbows
and knees,
your nipples,
the curve a your waist,
inner thighs,
ankle,
arch of your foot,
finally,
at the sweetest fruit of all
where I linger in lust
and bring you
to ecstasy.
…
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Dennis Cardiff 