"Now it still ripples, it still murmurs,
ripples; It still sighs, still hums
and it is empty under the sky."
~Popol Vu

Smoky tendrils curl around
the soft, small ears of Earth
and her rose-hips hear the rhythm and sway.
Sky wraps hardened hands around her curves
and melts her lips of cocoa mixed with chili in his mouth.
He leads her tall into the teaming chaos
of elbows and sweat and lesser gods
all alight with their own flame.

Here they dance on the off-beat;
it's a game.
He pulls her in with cinnamon eyes
and touches sweet as cane.
She resists, with teasing hips,
Bellies pressing as they play,
And he dips her supple back,
carving mountains with Earth's frame.

Elegant sweeps of her delicate heel
draw the coastlines of the Islands
and pull the Yucatan jungles from the sea.
Rain drips from foreheads and slippery palms
heated in the spaces close between.
Thunder shakes from thighs
caressed, clutched tight around.
And a wind grows, tumult set off by a twirl.

Legs of lightning,
entwined and tightening,
breast to bust,
loin to loin,
rhythms lend to lust.
The heat is frightening.
And they hold;

and they unfold
their weightless feet
tracing patterns in the deep.
In the warm
between their thighs,
twins are born,
with bodies made of corn,
and the spicy sweet of chili in their eyes.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...