Again, the elemental carnal frustration expanded
as the day’s heat piled itself above her,
she moaned, with impeded, dry need.
Thunder surrounded her body, with greedy
deep groans of primal, penitent pleas
for forgiveness, claiming, gutturally, slowly,
this was the appointed time to fulfill
ruptured seas of storm-passion. Panting
with hope, she agreed.

Closing her eyes, she felt Storm’s wind
fingering her body, kissing her face with
trembling lust, wanting to pull her up
into its bed of sky. She decided to try,
concentrated on vibrational wings of
baritone sounds lifting her hips, freeing
her breathability, sharpening her availability.

With a laugh, she leapt up into her lover’s bed.
Storm swept tears of grace onto her head,
smattered her skin with fluid titillation
and libation of wonton implantation of
towers of billowing cloud-powers, cloud
lovers, all gathered together to help her
remember the pleasure of total occupation
of sexual equations of supranatural delight.

She sighed and squirmed and turned
every which way Storm designed
in her sublime agony of Life’s rebirth,
dirt from earth and air from sky, solidified
into a quaking, shaking, pulsing, heaving,
tumultuous atmosphere that shimmied
the mountains and shook down the valleys,
suspending moistened heaven in colored
lovebows for planet-bound eyes.

Storm roared ever louder, she moved
ever swifter, with lightening bolts deeping
the reach of her keeping, with lightening
bolts reaching and deeping and weeping,
repeatedly pounding electric feelings
of sword-searing heatings and continual
greetings of tunneled sensations beating,
combined with bombarding hailstones,
consecrating and creating a shift
in all pressures of fantasy's measures
of temperatured fulfillment of her wish,
to embrace the sacred Heart
of the Storm God.

And, as she orgasmed with the completion
of Storm's willing mission, she fell
from the sky.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/26/05