Efferent earth, bodily maker

of shore-side glances, your

levels have shades that 

make ghosts turn red with desire.

 In seconds of glory when your

textures spill onto an endless

canvas, your body dances,

and claims a perpetrating 

moment in it's untouched wings.

The areas where your heavens

roam make waves and keep

oceans still, holding high a rose 

in a manner that bursts like snow.

The skin of her, a sunlit window

birthed in summer days, un-shamed

as soliloquies spoken like heightened

moans, making the moon blush, and

the sun drown in regions it once

thought too sacred to indulge.