Her lips move expressively,
appealing arch in angled brow
ignites a rising smile, the cue
suggests ‘attend to me, and
it will be your lucky day!’
Can’t deny her interest’s
sway, she never bares this
charm in gravid potency
unless inclined to win her
wicked, wanton way
They’re richling gems, rare
revered as offerings and yet a
saucy smile implies a slight
of tongue between the
set of fulsome lips
Words you couldn’t hear
except evoked as gentle
gestures left unsaid to trip
upon expressions vested
in a spirit freed restraint
A hush now lays complaint, it
isn’t what you think it is, your
hearing’s best a menace when
her majesty redresses fantasy
with lip-sync ease
An awkward deafness ends,
reveals causality she’s mimed
beyond the bent – it says
we’re even dear, you’re
freed to hearken unto me
© 4 June 2012, I. D. Carswell
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