A Naked Sonnet

I want to stare hard at the soft that calls
my softest hard. Get naked. Step into
my eyes in your coat of many freckles,
and tarry there, glowing and bashful, bruised

with blushing, a coverlet of ripples
and horizons. One moment, as I gawk
the Cabernet skin about your nipples.
And one more, to snarl at the collage

of pelage, chewing gum, and candlelight
framed in your labia, that weeps to hide
itself behind hands or eyelids or night.
But no. You are my breakfast! Right beside

the sunlight, where my eyes can taste dessert
in your sweet, coital smile on my insert.