On occasion, there are poems in the poet's catalog that are so ambiguous as to their muse and year of writing, neither is easy to be sure of. Best guess on this one? Late 70's - early 80's.
-----
The long, slow, inexorable slide into ecstasy,
subtle and not so silent that you cannot hear your doubts
as your own shouts drown out your blushing conscience.
Patience rewarded, hoarded passion tapped to flow undammed
like tears wept throughout our electric union.
Fire consecrating this sacrifice made to build upon
a question unasked but taken on the tip of a silver tongue
in silent worship of your flesh and your heart and your mind.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.