Her legs are like earrings, I've never worn. <br />There something to be dangled, <br />Before the electrical storm, <br />Like a fig-vine she snakes through my mind. <br />Clad in jingling charms these veils fall… <br />Shedding her skin of fear <br />Shedding her gilt, she burns to the core. <br />All scales removed; she wriggles, <br />Curled like a frond, moist in every pore. <br />The jugnle has abducted her senses… <br />A great winding river enters her falls… <br />Her kisses like big sticky date's tremble. <br />As she slivers aside, dawns dewy-wet morn.<br /><br />Mark Heathcote<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-legs-are-like-earrings/
