|Indian Statue #2|
by Julian X  /  poetry  /  29 Apr 2008
The light has this way of settling on her breasts
as the sun dawns upon the temple
and she closes her eyes.
The woman beneath her stretches out her hand,
a finger disappearing deep within the folds.
Her breasts dangle towards her face,
plump and round like they could give birth to all the Earth.
A man stands over her, hovering forever half-in, half-out,
eternally erect, eternally with his face of soft bliss
as he leans against the temple wall
and the breasts beneath him so nearly touch his knees.
On his right, anotherís breasts catch the whole
of the morning light, melting them down year by year
like a trickle of water against mountains.
Her radiant pussy, so delicately carved,
so plump that I know it breathes,
takes in all the light can offer.
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