Every woman of desire has let it get the better of her at least once.

answered: the call of man, the question of presence, prayers (in crescendo)

played: into his hands, the tune, along as the record and recorder

recorded with heft, bound and sold. shelved: the songmaker,

the builder, the womb, the artist, the kneeler, the story, the pages.

purchased: the turn of the tide, the forest, and so many spoken-for souls

Any favorite-position mouthpiece bent on a low hassock perch can testify fire-tongued truths on the purpose of piety, the worth of absolution.

What every man (like you) has changed the rules to Know.

To know which skin is soft and which bodies are ever-giving, what of this world is like and unlike scritta pages.

and like other men of letters and ages, following in the deep footsteps of curiosity, you’ll come to my bed for a wet remedy and fill your hungry head with a song of opponence, buckling under the fullness of flesh in hands and the weight of faith.