Depths

Some awakening
that infinite, atavistic
part of me said plainly where is she
this woman of unplumbable depths
the visceral epicure devouring
overt symbols of masculinity
look at me, erect and proud
bow and pay homage

and she curtseyed sweetly
smiled her secret smile
softening the walls of centuries
crumbling cement surrounds; hands
wove mystic sigils in electric air
burned without touching – her
unplumbable depths
called his name
© 8 July 2010, I. D. Carswell