Insatiable   

Strange goddess! dusky as night’s dark shadows
reeking of musk and havana cigars,
spawn of voodoo or African witchcraft,
ebony-flanked diva of darkest night!—
I prefer to opium or rich red wines
the drug of your mouth, where loves lies flaunting
itself.  In the sands of sex I find an
oasis. Your eyes. There I slake my thirst.

Your eyes! the smokeholes of your soul!  Don’t aim
those flamethrowers at me, you pitiless fiend!
I can’t encircle you like a river from hell
nine times . . . nor can I, lustful fury, break
you! Or bend you to my will by playing
a virgin . . .   in the hellpit of your bed.

†

Charles Baudelaire, Sed Non Satiata

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