Poem – “Standard Figure” – Erotica – 10/30/2020

I can see the surface.
Your form never cracks
Under the blankets, that are my hands,
Beneath the stare that goes to command
Your shape to be something turned
From frost,
Back to snow.

Belittled coldness,
Must become malleable.
I take a rose to your face,
Laying it to your lips.
I take a cloth to your eyes,
Fading tears to the next leak
Like stamps against your cheek.

I can shatter stone,
Easily as I can form the powder
Enough for your decline.
There is a barren landscape
Between your solid legs,
One to merge upon the peaks
Raising as mountains,
For your breast’s own bite,
Up to your head’s own height.

I can wield you,
Melded with the heat, while melting.
I can seize you,
Slithering between you,
Marking you,
Sending you
To history’s playback
Of bleeding notes upon your dried heart.