In Crimson Repose

Coffee in your corollaries
denim in your vestiture
cigarettes like turtle doves
     in flights of fancy

sex on your mind
dirt in the cracks high
     enough to cross over
no need to know why
no halo over your forehead
no panties on your hips
no need to waste
     so much time anymore

soft soap in silk sliding
     over your skin
sharp poetry in your sing-a-long
my fingers crawling over the knots
     like ants on a dead beetle

binding your primrose path
posing you for the camera's eye
ardent arousal in wanton display
licentious portraiture
lady in waiting
     in crimson repose.