HUNGARIAN HOT WAX

Fire, blazing in the sun
The coldness of the waxy layer
It curves in her hand
The verdant stem
Spreads across it, bloody body
Sunlight enhances the protective skin
Smooth, bumpy, her fingers run down it
While the waxy layer covers the moist inside

It dances with a sheer glow
The silent grace,
The muscles,
And curve of its body
Give out a distant sound:
The samba