Field of Water

I will walk

the shore of your reserve,

your gaze a path parting

grasses and wildflowers, a wave

upon the prairie, a sunburned sea.

I will rest within your mouth,

and hidden swim

your eyes, leagues of memory,

sweeping deep a trembling wind

on meadow's skin.

Beneath the heads of flames,a froth,

of Queen Anne's lace around my waist,

wading swells of blades

lashing fragrance green,

between my thighs

a song, on stem and petal

smothering where fire fades

I wait.

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Monkeys: There are no monkeys here. If you're looking for monkeys, go away. Well, actually there are monkeys, but they're of the hairless variety that writes poetry and such. If that's not what you're looking for move along.