Pink Velvet, Tight Ribbon
Beneath the quiet waves hide sea creatures and strange
monsters. Coming to life before the first stroke
on a blank canvas, between two pale fingers.
I spill myself over your
sharp edges. I am
thick drops dripping from your frame. And you rise
from sea creatures and young monsters.
A stream of primal desire sucked
to a small studio. A sack of lava swirled inside
a stuffed rabbit. Pencil in your hand, each gesture a siren calling
for the indecisive winter.
I am thick drops dripping
from your frame and you are in mine.
A few more innocent gazes and a groaning mouth to contain
your thorn. A frame expands. Stranded.
Strip. Spread wide
to fit you. A frame
with pink velvet tied as a ribbon, tight
as an invitation.
You are static electricity. You command
strange sea creatures
and young monsters with prodding thorn.
Gather around me. Streams
of secret wishes and safe words.
With brute force and specks of dust,
Pink velvet, born to desire, its curvature
fits the spine of sea creatures.
Tie a ribbon around my waist, tighten
your strained caress.
Make me a gift
of half-filled ocean, swirling
poison. Make me streams
of your primal sketch and I will flood you
with the same search. Come
to my cave. There we grow strange sea
together. Watch them
probe thorns into each other’s mouth.
Tie pink velvet around their open legs. Make them
bend. Two limbs would make a ribbon. Two would beg
for a feast.