As I opened eyes this morning,
Saw the sun rise upon his naked flesh,
Music of his chorded muscles
Played upon the air in tender waves.

I watched the manly jazz of hair,
Dark against his musky arm pits;
Spinal keys an octave to be played,
Whispered kisses, as he became my slave.

Ligaments became the strings of violins;
Buttocks the timpani for sound
As I blew upon the horn for melody…
Music, oh what music for the quivering morn!

He sighed and opened thighs
As in response a resonance began to rise.
The careless love imparted by his lips,
Rising and falling to cadenza graced with bliss.

Improvising music in the sheets,
Page by page, licking notes upon his neck
Till in a rising rush I underscored,
Decreed this act the heart and song of Rome.

Unfolding as the opus of our bodies,
Our own eternal composition, a paradise erect,
An entire world, warm skin snug against warm skin,
Playing unrehearsed, singing to the rippled light
Within the rising moisture of imploring eyes,
Music for the quivering morning sun.