As She Writes

As she writes poems
of erotic seduction

That fill the silent
corners of my mind

My image of her is unfocused.
a haze of soft gossamer in lacy black

Her bare footprints through wet paint
trace the desires in my mind

A slight whisper of indulgence
teases the skin covering these words

My whispers follow hers
like Masqued courtiers at Versailles...

My poem is the fingers in the breeze lifting your dress,
the phantom touch teasing your nipples.

My poem is the pillow that opens your thighs
as you sleep curled like smoke around a dream.

My poem is the touch that causes dew to trickle
between your thighs as you open your legs to pleasure.

Neither bed nor meadow will hear
of this seduction so discreet.

For I am the lover of her otherness
her wantoness and her words caress

As she writes poems
of erotic seduction