I want to preserve your radiance
and savor your intricate weave, and colours:
That I may run my fingers softly over your pattern.
That I may lie nude upon your length.
That I may cover myself in your grain.
I want to caress your tasseled ends
and smell the subtle remains of those
that have used you,
worn you bare in spots.
I want to lay you on an altar and place sacred
things around you:
To light candles and see you
by the warmth of firelight.
To gaze at you through the smoke
of negro-copal incense.
To let my scent permeate you.
I want to keep you in my secret place.