I crack nails on stone to find rich soil
mold clay into flesh
and flesh into place
heat my hands between your thighs
so I can temper skin
into marble
a smooth
perfect
cage
I set chisel to bone
and wait for
“Please.”
lean into it
shell cracked, lines split
topology and braille
I never loved you so much as when your imperfections were mine to trace.
Weaver of words…this is really nice, Lucky lady…