by Linda Simoni-Wastila

Drape me with silk


lustrous as the line of my thigh,


feed me oysters


champagne lapped, finger napped,


cream whipped


to fill my hollows.


Make cartography with your mouth,


move mountains with your fingers,


tongue highways down my belly


moan your prayers


hush in my ear you are done


with her,


hope these offerings will


unfurl my heart.