Sate This, Not That

Wrap your arms around and crown my head

As a memory might with the self, sought deep,

For thoughts felt near, like the precious bed

That, unlike love, lies here within our reach.

Take your arms from my head and grasp,

With hands, this nubile neck that feigns submit,

Like a ladies nape to a gaudy clasp,

And hang on me that bejeweled  kiss.

Bracelet my wrists and fling me on the bed

And then, with fast flicks of the tongue in swirls,

Sing your song on felt flesh from hoof to head

And adorn with spit and sweat long beads of pearls.

Do all of this on passions wing and do it well.

Fly the pair of us to the carnal spot

Then come to where the center holds in a swell.

Then release lust's grip, come down, then stop.

But now you ask to touch this mean thing down deep?

Now you seek to penetrate with eyes that care?

Believe that all that is found inward will be cheap

So I ask you, kindly, do not to touch me there.

God! Fight this desire for treasure inside!

There is where the man is spare and plain, alone!

A meandering map of love as your guide

Will find a shineless thing, and unadorned!

So this, my love, is the predicament we're in;

That you look for riches that are not there.

The best, my love, would be to stick to skin

And leave all else dull, austere, and deathly bare.