Opening the body's library

Opening the body’s library

A strange forest,
you cover yourself
with the modesty of wind.
Torrents of forgetfullness
and desire are the dark
tumult to your thighs,
a gartered waterfall,
a door ajar.
I imagine you speaking.
Your warm voice,
a library of volumes,
a century of reading,
the sighs
of the turned page.
Your arms prepare to open
like clouds above
the sun-warmed table
of your abdomen.
I am prepared to sit
amid your studious breathing
until all your knowledge
is my own.