I complete your feet
With something sweet:

Geometric linings
And penrose tilings.

I draw your calves argyle,
Cause that takes a while.

I can stay down here
For at least another year.

But then I work on up
To your thighs and butt.

I assign your ass
With a touch of class

Crystal imagery,
Fractal symmetry.

Thighs and pearl.
An opal whirl

I outline your spine
With a lattice line

Which I trace and linger
With my index finger

Then I move to navel,
Breath and tessellation.

Your scars are perfect.
Your scars are perfect.

I blueprint your chest
With a detailed crest

Which waves and wombs me
To a deep sleep rest.

Then I sketch your neck
With stone and fleck.

Nothing more, nothing needed.
Maybe something slightly beaded.

Then your mouth, sweet Vermouth
Small-scale hint, checked Houndstooth.

I plot your face unblotted,
Nothing polka dotted.

I prepare your hair.
I organize your eyes.

I conceive and weave;
I devise laugh lines.

I scheme and dream. I do.
I decorate. I do.

I’ve got
Designs on you.

11/08/2007

Posted on 11/08/2007
Copyright © 2024 David Garner