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WHAT LINGERS WHEN LIPS PART







WHAT LINGERS WHEN LIPS PART


After tongue touches tongue, I stagger
backward from the jolt. A spark,
from two juiced wires brushed together,
lights the dark where cobweb belayed bruts
ache to pop their corks.

I try to sober, but trickle quicker
down the treasure trail,
the shortest passage to your tap.
I binge in the cleft of your cellar,
three sheets from a whiff of your oaky vintage.

Your stout arouses taste buds
flaccid from disuse.
Shivers convulse me
days after a taste of your malt brew.

You are a spirit to be quaffed,
not sipped like snobbish cognac.
When I touch your brim to my lip,
your beard is like a margarita’s salted rim.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
gardenwaltz
Jan. 20th, 2010 04:45 pm (UTC)
very nice. I am a fan of beards myself and find them often disparaged.
brillig01
Jan. 20th, 2010 05:53 pm (UTC)
Thanks! I like a man with a variety of textures.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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brillig01
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