A woman is the dwelling place of fire,
Whose fearsome fevered flush no flood can tame.
While man’s a wanderer with wan desire,
A pale Prometheus in quest of flame.
She guards the burning plasma of creation.
He hungers for the heat she holds within.
She opens with a honeyed invitation,
And with a liquid sigh, invites him in.
She lays herself, a banquet overflowing,
All spread in pristine linen edged with lace,
With fertile scents of earth and harvests growing,
And blushing fruits that thirst for his embrace.
Her silken-cushion loins burn to enfold him.
Her breasts, like orphans, ache for his caress.
She parts her satin thighs that yearn to hold him,
And welcomes him with eager acquiesce.
He falls on her, with frenzied desperation,
And he, who by possession is obsessed,
Invading her, with wanton penetration,
Becomes, in truth, the one who is possessed.
Then, like a glutton prematurely sated,
He tumbles from the table, fully spent;
And she remains, her fire unabated,
A banquet laid for guest who came and went.
And so he leaves with really nothing tasted,
Of all the riches that she would provide;
And she, bewildered at the bounty wasted,
Will, in the future, guard her gifts inside.
So sad indeed are offerings untaken
And opportunities unknown and missed,
And hidden fires no one will awaken,
Or liquid lips that, want-full, wait—un-kissed.
Ray Malus, 67, is a first-time participant in the Senior Poets Laureate competition. He lives in Woodland Hills, where he is editor of The Valley Scribe, newsletter of the San Fernando Valley branch of the California Writers Club. Ray is an active playwright and poet, and a retired entertainer, teacher and computer programmer. His sign of the zodiac is Aries.