Handler Stimulated

(Second inversion)

The morning light finds us unsatisfied,
still partying at dawn. It stirs our blood
and urges us to pleasures that we've tried
and never tired of. Ruthlessly we could
each drive the other on, or we could linger
upon the brink, be exquisitely stern
call off the expedition, put a finger
up to our lips, and keep the secret, burn
The clefts are consummated. Was it ample?
No opportunities left unexplored?
God help the body forced to every sample
of murmured ecstasy, each aspect flawed
in culmination. Each exposure dies.
So grasp the flesh, form the position. Lies.

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