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Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
“the tiniest of hearts” ~ Lorca, “Preludio”
Lorca
My fingers grow the tiniest of hearts
While finding love. They swell, though, like men do,
When tips lap passion in the vestal parts.
The fingertips create that billets-doux
Response. More powerful than sonnets, rose
Bouquets (and maybe diamond rings), the strokes
Cause velvet steeliness of need. Soft throes
And tremors quake. Directed touching stokes
The inward panting, not quite gasping yet,
A fleshing of desire made up of bulge,
Caressing of the inner puff for jet
Of force when lovers with their hands indulge.
No quickening as gentle as a breeze
Can please a man as much as prised-wide knees.
~ Phillip Whidden