what is this thing

what is this thing
that has called me back
my attention awakened
now what do I do

simple sweet taste of taboo
or birth of the perfect poem
what brought me back
for more, more, more

warm moist lips
in my mind's eye
scent of wildflower honey
I drink in the nectar

what pheromone is in the air
from across neighboring border
that dares to me the risqué
of the morphing of Gregor Samsa

Je sui prêt
Elle est prete
C’est tout pres
C’est loin d’ici

poem©GW Crow 2008. all rights reserved.