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African Woman

She moved through time adorned proud

as a Nubian Princess, more delicately prized

than porcelain cups filled with spiced, Angolan

coffee. Mesmerizing chestnut elegance, intensity

that could have captured Tutankhamen by crushing

any man’s supremacy when riding his royal chariot,

subjecting every surviving wonder in the ancient 

world to the majestic, glorious reign befitting

the superior grace of a superb ebony queen.

Tall as a Masai warrior, astonishingly long

postured legs, smooth like craftsman polished,

chalcedony onyx, supple as richly applied lanolin

to freshly bathed, chocolate skin. Commanding hair

naturally colored raven – soft as sable chinchilla,

crowning her head as it were the naughty black

empress of a color laden Atlantis. A tan sex paradise

with her body angelically revealing beneath fiery

lingerie, having its own erotic love stories to tell.

Eyes were the envy of sweet cream splashed

with Sarsaparilla. A glowing resemblance to oculars

from a panther looking into radiant moonbeams;

luring as a beckoning lighthouse guiding men

gone months with only masturbation to gentle

comforts of her open shores. As if still sailing

the rousing intensity of a tumultuous storm, you

dare not jump from the wakes of her cradling thighs

until the lustful ride comes to a complete stop.

The palms of her hands seemed sun blanched

into perfect shore biscuits. Silver dollar seductions –

elegantly chic, timeless as the pyramid value jewels

that garnished her sleek, mocha-colored fingers,

as I became helplessly seduced by a carnal women

more worthy than gleam from her ivory teeth;

radiantly seething whenever she smiled. Pink-lush

lips provocative as strawberry wine hosting a stellar

bare-skin evening, dark as our forbidden romance.

I would dare not label her a vixen, coupled with

being much too vogue and glamorous to be called

a brunette pussy cat. Still, the fluff of her natural

beauty was overwhelming, a nude man’s intimate

acquiescence to a hard fatal attraction, until falling

quick like a drunken Caucasian. Seduced russet-

breast crazy by the Lorelei of a siren’s song; offering

one more teasing gallop, but no amnesty … for

the slave trading conduct of my racist ancestors.

Thus, in a simmering moment I fell helplessly

bound to the magical fertility of a sensual, bronzed

lady. A glowing brown female turning barren desert

into a flowering oasis, complete with hot springs,

orchids, pomegranates and waterfall. Kissing me

without shame or doubt, frolicking stark naked to

reggae music between satin sheets, demonstrating  

nothing said or done, can ever, honestly compare

to making love … with an African woman.