sensual, passionate poetry!
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Richard M. Ankers

Milk rolls over leather.

No, moon over tanned skin.

Is it?

Stars in my eyes;

This girl’s celestial.

Are the heavens moving, 

Or me?

A rotation of limb or light,

a porcelain persuasion,


A flickering of might,

Tickle of possibly.

This girl’s bewildering;

I’m bewildered.

And I will be

Again, and again,

Until she turns to cream.

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