Slow pages
I would like to read you slow pages,
feel the warm trickle of ink,
slowly engaging in summer enchantments;
taste the sweat of old spells
on sandpaper armpits and sandpaper tongues.
Sing a salty song of lust;
trust these old parchments, brimming with life,
covered with dust
and dripping, burning wax
of solemn seals and stolen keys.
Read you slow pages,
feel the warm trickle
of slow spreading ink
in laid-down, loving ritual;
and read this to you.