Her lust for him was fierce,
She spreads out her body before him,
As if it were a lavish bridegroom’s dinner,
Of caviar, oysters and shrimp,
Artichokes stripped of leaves to dip in luscious butter,
Her body reeks too with fragrant muskiness,
A sweat line glistens on her, inviting yet he resists,

Her tender lips are moist, uncorked to further whet desire.
Entreating him to take his fill, she whispers in his ear,
“Partake of me, my love. Own me more and more.”

As he imbibes her and consumes her,
His feeding frenzy peaks!
She offers from her fingers- sweetest fruit:
Honeyed figs with cream, peaches, plums, and her body fine,
And one red well-ripened berry lying between her lips…

Utterly sated,
Drunk from delectation; he sighs
Motionless, she lies, moaning like a lover begotten alike,
And when his eyes move rapidly
Beneath their heavy lids,
She slides her body carefully off his,
Slips back into her gossamer gown,
Hastens on tiptoes to the door; turns the knob;
And without looking back,
Steps back into the blackness of the night.

He’ll waken and so will the want to feast again
But he’ll find that she has parted…
For such banquets such as hers, are rare as they come,
And so she’ll live and love, lie again
Knowing that he can never resume
A coupling that was so completely gratifying.
His passion was consumed while consuming of goddess
Who takes from men again . . . and again?

But the sustenance that she needs again
Must always be fresh, and that is what
Eternally that sustains her.