landscape
c. 2002, Miriam M. Wynnyour body is a canvas meant for me to slowly overtake;
like catnip you drive a thrill through all my senses
and I breathe you in like an opiate;beneath your fitted polo shirt I see the lines of your back,
your shoulder blades, the curve of your spine,
the taught, virgin bow your body makes;
and my tongue is like a finger ringing in anticipation,
eager to pluck your body and taste it thrumming
hard, deep, and slow.you are like a package meant to be unwrapped:
I want to unroll you like a concubine from her carpet,
tangling in tossed curls and reaching limbs;
I want to unfurl you like a crimson cape,
wrap you into hot shadows dark around me;
I want to cast you forth like dewdrops from tossed petals,
wet and slick across all my skin;
I want to spread you out like a gluttonous banquet,
and devour all of you that I can;I can't wait to finally expel you naked and onto my bed,
like the moan of a lover begging for release:
and you, my untried landscape, still hover beneath
stitch, caution, cloth, and time,
while my fingers itch and I am patient,
waiting for this landscape to be mine.