Woodwork
a lesson in trade(s)
In adolescence, I snuck into the woods and danced with Desire. Mud smushed ‘tween our toes and the salt of my sweat your favorite fragrance, Howling ‘neath moonrise before slinking back into our soft shells for supper.
At night, I kept you on my lips as a souvenir, or better yet, a talisman warding off responsibilities awaiting my Sapele frame.
Your hands as my altar,
I needed you and you kneaded me.
Generosity filled my gut and Restraint made me a devotee.
Now, I delight in the decades needed for wood to reach maturity,
Sliding my hands up and down the grain.
And when wet, a musky note wafts through my nostrils,
My flesh yielding to your nice, hard surface.
softly,
dev<3