Eros’ rose shed red shreds of petals
On your bed, your eyelids, and your long lips–
Pressing silence to the secrets that we keep,
Just we two, alone as Adam at the Fall.
Twins in sin, how redly aches our double-loving
(Spiking with sin-cinnamon our apple pie)
As mouth-to-groin and groin-to-mouth we lie,
Lengthwise mirrors of all our loving’s trouble.
Each slap and grapple leaves temptation’s trace
Trailing red rose petals of fingerprints
Across the landscape of your ass and face.
And, like a gardener in his pints,
I pull the thorns aside for only this:
To find two lips, your rose, upraised to kiss.