A poem of desire.
|When the Goddess Comes Out of the Swamp
By Richard Hanson
Voodoo chile – sending chills up spine cranium bound
And the whispers of yesterdays wafted like pork loin burgoo smells
And she tastes . . .
But I forget now . . .
When the Goddess comes out of the swamp.
A sax wails twelve days from Sunday
And the full moon lies, reflected on still water
I found my thrill
On Blueberry Hill
And she reaches down to my bones, she reaches me.
Dancing cheek to cheek. Stax soul.
Cumming to the horns
Sweat soaking twin small breasts
As we move – WE MOVE entwined –
Goddess of the night
Hip swivel boogie of another kind,
To another height
Goddess of the swamp hear me,
Hear me moan
“I feel it in my bones.”
Hear us moan.
“Feel it in my bones.”
Sweet goddess of the swamp
Sing sin sweet in my ear
Taste sweet . . .
Peaches. Peach fuzz.
The sun rises
And we – exhausted
Good Goddess of the moontime
Goddess of the swamp.