Bolero Climax

Okay woman
this is the night
courtship is over,
the roses are wilted,
one bud pressed,
the chocolate box sets askew,
all of the poems
of sweetheart’s desire
are filed in your book of memories.
Tonight is the night
for passion to rule
for foreplay fingers
to torque up the flame,
for tongues of fire to
lap up love juice,
burn bodies burn is the name,
of the game.