clay perry

Canvas

A canvas as smooth as silk
beneath my fingertips:
You sit and so unknowingly
contribute
to the fire of wanting in my brain.
You let me paint you.
And as I touch brush
to skin
I feel alive with desire.
How could you know
that touching you
-nay, simply being near you-
sparks the kindling of my heart?
That drum held captive
in my ribcage
Pounds out a steady rhythm
like Africa
where all things are wild
and free.
Sensual.
My hands shake as I hold your hand;
Cup your chin
to hold your face still,
Even though it is I who ...