I'm-Beholden Poem by Mark Heathcote

I taste your lipstick
It's a prophecy I can't resist.
I follow you in a bee's dance
to a flowers nap, and take my lance
to prise it open.
It's an iridescent opal I'm beholden.
A tiger moth in its cloth,
in its Lepidoptera scales-of-pigmented dust-froth
you take my hand,
and guide me to the stars in their quicksand.
The universe is whispering, are you safe,
are you saved?

As I hold your face in my palms in my hands
and kiss your lower thighs. I feel the sands
the sand is slipping away,
oh, I must be dreaming - anchors aweigh
not a moment, not one chained link can stay,
but when I wear your lipstick, it proves you came my way.
It proves I couldn't resist you.
It demonstrates how you couldn't resist me too.