Passiflora: Passion Flowers Poem by Mark Heathcote

His hand, sweaty palms, his fingers
Slipped to her nautical waists, tether
Tulip-red-petal-lips press together
With a stamen, tongue twining
With lingering dreamy longing.

Whilst their flowers clock lost time
He stripped her of all her apparel
And she came forward in rhyme
Rocking back on his calypso carol
Support needed, she leaned back.

Headlong like a sunflower lolling
Amongst his arms, like a megalomaniac
Shaking her head to-and-fro
To-and-fro, to-and-fro, alarming
In ways of the first flowers deathblow.