The Ravished

The truly naked skin is all alone
and not about to be dressed,
but waiting for its nakedness
to slowly hatch
the colorless and odorless
ants of eternity…

yet the skin about to be dressed
in caresses’ silk
proudly bears its naked petals
and strokes the fruits wrapped in them 
with unhurried fantasies,
watching the world sweeten and swell,

and knows nothing about
the nakedness of a singularity
in the busy universe,
about the stark reality
of absence and the nudity vibrating
between parallel lines…