one of natures little slicking slidings
holding up—neglect—in a facial womb
constant lubricating iller tidings:
    our blood-red love beneath a swollen moon.
in passion|terse excitement|overwhelm
the lips foam with speckling spray of over
    wrought,wreaked,worked,willed
                     wills that(ever)over reach
and leave dry tongue their only testament.
a nimbler ink than i would drift to tact;
description of its so-much baser use
as orgy-water-wine that whets the lips
[…]