Girl In a Green Velvet Dress

Maybe it was the way her lips pouted so - Full and inviting beneath vacant eyes; Perhaps it was the leonine way she strolled, Like a beast without mind, All power, proud but unreflective. More likely, though, it was the dress, That jungle-green velvet that rode her Tight and high like a desperate caress Revealing much more than nakedness would have; The dress, that held her, reflecting cool light From video machines And giving off waves of visceral potential - It called my eyes back, time and again, Speaking volumes in an animal tongue Addressed to the animal crouched within me; The two conversed without knowledge or distraction From us, holding conclave for some moments Before she disappeared. What they said to one another left me burning, A willing slave to feral dreams Days and nights thereafter.