Roxie

I press my fingers delicately
against your auburn skin;
Oh, to taste the steel,
mahogany, and sweat:

Ivory and ebony inhabiting her ears,
where the stabbing sharps and numbing flats
are natural as far I can hear

and she is ever ringing
with a certain stunning dissonance
that fingers finer harmonies
than I could wish to breathe.

Hers hips that curve in brilliant reds
press hard against my thighs each night,
and her dog-eared lips always
scream at every wall like Seraphim.

My fingers feel the action
As they curl, and as I sweat;
I clench my eyelids tighter
and allow my hands to guide me home

But I only stroke your neck to hear you sing
and I only pull your strings to make you scream

March '07