The innermost hunger roils forth in boil,
Prowling and growling in a lowly purred hum
Marking the deep inner ghost shadowing a mind.
Haunting its every urge by roaming over words
Searching for acquiescence absent your presence.
Rising up in fervor to consume the mate of sense
As the teetering pistil, fragrant with lusty pollen
Dusting its willing nub, hangs among the sweet folds
Of lily mother and consumes the drunken bee.