changing jobs

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I was unraveling her metaphors

dangling from the strings,

the strap falling off her shoulder…

mystery, solved

answer: revealed.

My sojourn began across the soft fold,

the landscape of her skin

taking role of navigator

cartographer—

my soul directed by some cosmic GPS in my

fingertips

turn right at the base of her neck

then proceed down the curve of her collarbone

soft shoulders

here is the spot on her back

that makes her arch and moan and the same time.

I am composing now.

I am the composer

creating a symphony on an instrument

with such exquisite sounds

my fingers digging in

searching deeper for something, some sacred monument

that will release a sanctimonious cry

Ministering now, to her need, to her will

I’m finishing the sermon, on to the mount.

taking my place inside this palace she has leased to me

crown prince of her fantasies

heir to her throne.