The Ecstasies, Assignment #15

[note: in the actual document these were side by side]

The Ecstasy of Beata Ludovica Albertoni
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Hands are grasping, clutching
At the fabric of her flowing robes.
Her legs scrunch into her body,
Rising waves of heat from her toes,
Which curl from the electricity.
The rest, hidden in the alcove
Until I move to front of her bed,

For the first time gazing at her
Rising orgasm,
Which seems to be
Emanating from between her legs,
Climbing up her torso, the currents
Swirling her robes.

A hand presses
Into her stomach, restraining
The flooding sensation;
But its effects are
Overcoming her control
As she struggles to contain it.
Fingers dive into her flesh, the
Marbled breast soft under her touch.

Shoulders fall back
As orgasm lifts her chest
Above the mattress;
Head craning back, barely
On the pillow.
Headdress beginning
To slip, the folds
Of which join
The sea of crevices
In her robes.
Her lips part, letting
Out breaths of ecstasy.

Her eyelids, open halfway
Eyes rolling back to gaze above
Into the light, which dances
Across her face, down her body,
And pulsates from her limbs
Through the sheets, the marble rug,
Spilling out towards us.

The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa
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Golden rays stream from the window
Lined with deep-yellow stained glass,
A white sun in a golden haze,
Beaming in a mixture of natural light.
She is penetrated by Cupid’s arrow,
And from his hand the love of God,
Pierces her flesh, wounding her with
His painful pleasure as she is lifted
By the neck of her robes.

He pulls his arrow back, still at the ready,
Relinquishes his grasp, fingers loosening,
Barely hooked on the edges of her robe.
Her arm falls limp, trailing her side,
Leg hanging off the cliff of ecstasy,
But toes still curled – remnants of bliss.
Head settles back into her linen robes,
In which the wind pushes sharp folds.

Cupid’s thin, gauzy robe is falling
Off his chest, joining the sea of
Curves and pleats, swirling like the
Coils of his blond locks.
His smile, a warm and knowing
Expression, unsurprised by her
Throngs of gratification.

She falls onto the rough stones,
The last moans exit her parted lips;
She is spent.