Maypole in Bloom

When May comes, with Beltane’s heat wrapped around her hips, I weave primavera ribbons into every dark. My all—flesh, bone, the womanliest curves of my soul—taste the silk flirting inside my heart… curling towards my thighs… kissing the soil that dances with the bottoms of my feet.

The taps and twists of my soles chant a song of getting and of giving, of sex and heart creating ecstasy, of quickening flesh and dirt, of enticing the Maypole to please Nature’s need of rebirth.

Come for me, May, dance my will wild. Let me love you for multiple whiles… touch me with what Spring hides from Summer, wear me out until my Fall daydreams of slipping into Winter.

the Maypole in bloom,
spring teasing out desires
from all living things

.
wee notes
Beltane: the anglicized name for the Gaelic May Day festival, most commonly held on May 1st, or about halfway between the spring equinox and the summer solstice.
Primavera: the Spanish word for spring.

written for Yesterday Never Dies – Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016 (Day 13)
I chose the 30th April prompt, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads:
Poetizing the Maypole

Maypole in Bloom