And keels over into fetal positions curled tight
If wincing lemon faces ripped from lion faces
And listings of higher powers
"Jesus Christ God Oh My God!"
Can somehow result in the birth of something infantile
And totally new
But not always human
Then the babe would be lovers
Across time
The cries let out from the greatest lovers
Most powerful in their passions
Most passionate in their powers
Sow seeds of lovers' moans
To be harvested when, again, in time
The same caliber of romantic thigh twitching
And eye-rolling is created and echoed
Let the kings and queens of the past know
That a cornucopia and bountiful feast
Is taking place in our bedroom
On our sheets
While our movements knock
Shakespeare's sonnets and Dickinson's letters
From your nightstand
