Last night it rained ruby wine on the white roses in my garden
In the dim moonlight a small orange bird told me I cut myself
I looked at my thighs
Translucent chantilly lace silently hugging my skin: slight marks left by your teeth
I looked at my palms
Fathoms of your kisses floating on my fingers: violet water lilies sleeping on hidden emerald lakes
The night was ripped by the gallop of an Arabian horse: the painful beatings of your heart calling for me.
I ran toward you: thorns scratched my skin, dry branches blocked my way
I felt pain
I kept running from one century to another
Smell of scented candles flickered on the heavy silver of the icons
I trapped you in my humid dream like a naked pearl trapped by a shell
We made love in silky sheets of poetry
I could hear the purr of pharaoh’s cat…
What century was that?