a song for the sun
what lion lies,
o king of flame
upon your golden crown?
a diadem
of porcelain fangs
arrayed with peacock's down.
slip thy nimble
fingers there
beneath my lunar gown
that quickened silver
they'll ignite
and in its flames i'll drown.
o king of flame
upon your golden crown?
a diadem
of porcelain fangs
arrayed with peacock's down.
slip thy nimble
fingers there
beneath my lunar gown
that quickened silver
they'll ignite
and in its flames i'll drown.
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Author's Note
For my lover, and yours.
Other stories by M. F. Sullivan
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Kinda Dickinsonian
Diadem and the antique syntax and diction coalesce. Nice.
Gorgeous word choice.
The most exquisitely erotic experience I've enjoyed all day, thus far. *
I like this very much.