fecund 04.18.06

[lsm]

across the fecund swath
of my skin,
emitting heat,
far removed from cold sterility,
my skin inhales heartily
the tender roughness
of the pads of of your fingertips.

you weave a pattern of
fleur-de-lis across my stomach,
the small of my back,
the swell of my hips,
and i fall, encompassed,
into the sensation of your warmth.

i roll over,
nestle my face into the hollow,
soft and smooth,
between your chin and and your shoulder,
breathing in that crisp smell
of your perfect cologne.

and i am amazed,
because,
though i dreamed of perfection,
i never believed
it could actually feel
like a perfect moment
in the world greater
than my imagining.