Liquid Breast

I have found happiness
Of a sort
In the liquid softness
Of your breast.
Your arms enfold me
In the dark;
Yielding our bodies, we
In silence speak
The language of the body–
Wordless syntax flesh engraved.
Held fast in your embrace,
Lies we tell dissipate.


(c) George Eraclides 2008. Published in Woorilla Magazine