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Paper Sheets
Lay me across your sheets
of white, hold me as a poet
fingers her pen, caressing
with the passion of expression.
Draw me close,
then color me with the ink
of passion, kiss me,
roll me off your tongue,
and play with me
as a poet plays with words.
Blanket me with your fevered
inspiration, sketch me crimson
in your mind's fire.
I want to burn there
as a memory,
make you savor me
like a poet does her thoughts,
then tarry in the draw off of your pen.
I want to feel the breathless rush,
climax as a poet
slamming her read
and leaving the voyeurs
lusting for more.
Later, we can separate the wrinkled sheets,
unfold what came of night
and you can write me again,
better, as a poet would
Play with me,
as a poet does.
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