Eight (8)

 

1 it will be a sacred ritual
to contain the delirium of
our fasts
2 pour carefully the
emperor's wine upon
my tongue
3 molave smooth
like your thighs
beneath my feet
4 the bed is soft
and not in shambles
where our weary
bodies lie
5 my breasts upon yours
the light scent of
sandalwood
where we touch
6 now let us kiss
gently, softly
drench these lips
we are parched
7 with your finger
stroke me lightly
softly, please
8 until the sweet nectar
flows from the empress
flower