an open book, leatherbound with a tattered cover
rests on an antique nightstand
the dim orange glow from a hurricane lamp provides
perfect light to imagine you using my body as a lectern from which to read your sacred words

you rest one hand on my shoulder
and I accept the weight of a tome
you place upon exposed dimples of Venus 

my spine pressing against its spine (waiting patiently)
while you scratch notes above perfect parallel lines
to break my concentration as devoted object
and usher my return to curious creature

my hips shift,
like a soft wave summoning a lost sailor ashore
you sweep your lips with feather-light precision against my ear
your hands follow whispered words
wandering along my serpentine frame
where you will be granted safe passage to discover

untamed urge