Hers

Against the wall, we hold the gun

Bewitched with the red satin drape

The patron began the vigilance

Scouting the gate to nirvana

Kneel on the sand, wash by the wave

Bussing the bits, soothe the wall

Reach the fruitless bosom to taste

Cast with substantial delicacy

Dripping water blow the echo

Peculiar whisper and rather enticing

Brushing my ear, poach my line

Dragging me to the race

Raised a loaded gun, put me on guard

Chase by the unknown, enchanted the wall

Run and run to the deepest den

Crawling under the booth

Move around, swing the gun

Shaken sand captive my body

Blow vigorous vein, hook it

Gushing out as lightning

Blast handgun drizzle on sap of conundrum

***

Note: This poem originally published at vocal.media: https://vocal.media/poets/hers-ggh5bc0a6f. And will be published in my upcoming book: [Más]Caraing

Credit: Photo by John Rocha from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/grayscale-photo-of-naked-woman-230986/