night settles upon the ivory pages of my skin.
You come to me, your ebony locks pooling
around my face, your beard rough cheek
rasping my smooth, as you trace the length
and the curve of my arm, my shoulder,
my hip and thigh with slender fingers.
I turn my head, follow your breathing whisper
and arch, pressing myself against you, tremble
as you draw my breath into your lungs.
Your jet black wings, thick as knotted rope,
long as twice my reach, fold ‘round me.
Feathers overlapping, close me in
and I panic -- as always -- at the lack of air.
My heart clamors like a bird against its cage;
your voice fills my head, thickly dark
like a mouthful of sweet, unfiltered honey.
And you speak until my tears are dry.
My whimpers fall silent; my panic subsides.
I surrender the fight to gain my freedom.
Then, and only then, do you sing to me,
in sighing lines of soul-wrought poetry.
The ink in my veins spills with your words,
written on the very flesh you own.
5/15/11
