East Meets West

Oh, Asia, Stripping in the vaults of saints, legs long as a Chinese Romance I do not dare admit admiring Jet hair a wild river Plunging to your fertile seas, Tumbling aromatic With a carefree laugh, weightless acrobatics writhing like a bolt silk unfurling in the wind erotic and serpentine, A smile as dangerous as a prowling intern- Your eyes know nothing of dead Tomorrows, drinking my soul like an infant at your perfect breasts, ageless and full in profane valleys My hands may not touch you, I dare not return with your scent upon my heathen chest Inhaling deeply When, for a moment brief and unseen you slip between my tired thighs and in my foolishness, I think I can talk to you like Washington or Jackson, Green as Spring, Whispering of home and the Yang Tze.

By: Bryan Thao Worra -submitted on 09/27/2005 ©2005. Bryan Thao Worra