Her smile is sculptured scarcely with muscles.
It makes the lips convincing and seductive,
it seizes tardily the breath’s possessions
and clogs at once blood vessels with obsessions.
The time is wedged, enslaved, and self-destructive.
Its warps are obsolete and turned to fossils.

Her eyes possess a tang of wishful tango.
They craft two arrows, while the lips are hiving,
to perforate the heart and elevate attentions,
and trigger dancing moves in all dimensions.
Their depth is too oblivious to dive in,
the tongue is weak to twist and mangle.

Adrenalines are rushed as banderilleros
with gaudy-rainbowed darts of dazzling passion.
This pure transfixion’s palpable as wind is
for birdies’ wings or wildly shattered windows.
Translations from the dancing to confession –
the spell of body language checked by Eros.

31 March 2009