Tres

Don't move
While I kiss your eyes
My lips
The last thing
You see tonight
Before darkness exhaustive
Envelopes your sight

You must remind me
To have this dress
Recreated in rubber

Don't move
While my fingers caress
The delicate buttons
That separate your decency
From my tendency

Addition
By subtraction
Everything
That touches your skin
Equals the number of hours
You will be possessed tonight

Hands like the wind
Linen billowing cumulus
Down to your ankles

Such a waste
To surrender such heels
Said the witch to Dorothy
And two makes three

Don't move
While I apprise
Your assets most prized
Hiding Natori proud
Clasp melting
Elastic elongating
Propriety deprived
4 and 5

Don't move
While I savor your gifts
The weight of your breast in my hand
The fluid confession of your former secrets
The curve of your flanks
Traced with my fingers
The futility of your resistance
As my impertinence

Lingers
Inside you

Allow me to exchange
Your earrings and watch
For more elegant jewels
Tiny torments magnified
And made glorious
By a reluctant oyster
Helpless to oppose fate
By the way
That makes eight

Press your lips together
And confine this pearl between them
If it should fall
It will be switched
With something quite
Antithesis

Hush
There

Now
Hold out your hand
Feel its supple softness
Could the cow conceive
Of such a destiny
For its hide?

Imagine
Flaps laced airtight around your head
Collar locked severe around your neck
Listening to the measured gasps of the pump
Obliterate
Oblivious
Oblivion

Another pearl
So translucent
Yet impenetrable

Take it
And position it
Between the tip of your pinkie
And the crest of its opposing thumb

Yes, like that
Only with your hands behind your back

Be sure to apply just the right amount of pressure
Lest it should slip out
And plunge to the floor
Like a Golden Gate suicide

In that case
I will gladly exchange it
For this leather duffel
Designed to weld
Your arms together as one

So many straps to buckle
Even more eyelets to lace
Fingernails to shoulders
Elbows adjacent
Hapless
Helpless
Hopeless

Lying there on the bed
It makes me think of a suitcase
Waiting to be packed
For a long voyage
To a faraway land
Where the accommodations
Are anything but

And for the final sphere
An overcoat of substance
Warm and soothing
Or so the label claims

But your mileage may vary
Especially between quivering thighs

Don't move
While I demonstrate
A tiny dab's ability
To heat exponentially
The tip of your nipple

Don't move
As the viscous gem
Nestles in place
Inviolable
Against your delicious taste

Diligently deny
The pearl's liberties
For if it escapes its penitentiary
The warden will doubtlessly sentence you
Without hope of reprieve
To what jailbirds might describe in the yard
(In this case, altogether too appropriately)
As "30 days in the hole"

I hold in my hand
A harness of heavy leather
That could perhaps be defined
As a chastity belt
But not tonight

It would also be a grave understatement
To call the two implements
Bolted to the strap that covers the crotch
Plugs

Positioned (around)
Pushed (up)
Pulled (tight)
Padlocked (permanent)

Don't move
While I circle behind you
Pull up a chair
And ponder this souvenir
Of a peacock's shameless pride

So colorful as it ripples soundlessly through the air
A baton suitable for an orchestra of clouds
Insubstantial until its wispy tips
Mistake your nakedness for a ballroom
Suitable for waltzing

Now you may move
But only this particular foot
Pick it up off the floor
Hold it out just like that
So that I may trace
The words to a poem
Epic beyond Homer
More tortured than Milton
Oscar Wilde at his most anguished
Inscribing the intricacies of my love
On your soul.

###

Copyright (c) 2002 by Adrian Hunter. All rights reserved.
Please do not repost nor repurpose without permission.