Everything About Mary

Not something;
Everything

Months of watching    
you have passed  
    
Your tough exterior    
juicy rare, deep pink with blood    
inside a vague mixture of musk  
with fragranced Life  
    
It's Tuesday; you're wearing    
that plaid skirt --  
its side buckle barely    
holding the flaps together  
    
Your toned thighs Ivory    
Towers in the Sun    
solid gateways to  
your Altar of Offering  
    
Aphrodite's drum beat  
graceful movement  
regal rite of passage    
between my lips;  
my tongue evoking  
moisture from dryness  
    
migrating to the constricted    
tuft of your anus    
    
A curmudgeonly aura  
your escort, a take-no-shit    
mahogany headdress    
marching in perfect step    
to the bubbled outline  
of your ass batting fabric  
    
just enough to glimpse    
the white cotton flag of surrender  
beneath the pleats  
    
Your crisp shirt pristine    
debutante white from lack of fondling    
I glance at my ungloved hands  
for cleanliness  
    
They're dirty with thought;  
your buttocks cupped  
tightly compressing  
you against me    
    
But not for sex, Oh. . .no;  
to hold your lips inches    
from my own lingering in respect  
of your Sacrosanct Breath    
    
Outward things we notice  
passing are dusted with Time;  
dormant desires stirred by movement  
our attention, captured by Faith  
for what lies beneath the superficial    
    
It's what I've seen beyond your nipples  
protruding in a downpour with no shelter;  
what I know past the orgasm    
crashing across my tongue;  
high tide breakers of salt    
washing ashore    
    
that bind me to you.    
    
Moist morning dew, pooling  
in the small of your dimpled back  
and evaporating delta    
    
Oh, My Mary  
    
It's the Monday you stopped    
gave your lunch to a homeless  
person in the park    
    
It's the Wednesday you held a dog    
parched from 90 degree heat    
up to the water fountain for relief  
    
It's the Thursday you bought  
ice cream for an impoverished family  
because they had none  
    
It's the Friday you gave    
all the cash in your wallet    
and your umbrella  
to a street musician    
playing for his next meal in the rain  
    
It's the Saturday you adopted    
an orange-buttoned tabby    
abandoned in the trash bin    
    
But, mostly it's the Sunday, Mary    
that Sunday you sat by yourself  
early in the morning  
your loneliness descending stars  
obscuring the galaxy of your wishes  
    
Wishes for more than fingers    
to squeeze or teeth to bite  
or hands to part your swollen lips  
for a penetrating strap-on  
to desecrate the sacred channel    
of your ass    
    
Wishing for more than fantasy    
to explode around you  
layers of tongue'd clit being eaten  
licked sucked fingered fucked    
for seconds of release  
    
Only to open your eyes to emptiness    
from the illusion of happiness  
Only to open your eyes alone    
sheets tangled around the clock  
bodies dressed and gone    
    
The aromas of sex permeating  
thick in the absence of Love  
    
My Mary, how you give what    
you desire in hope it returns    
manifesting your nights  
with the anointing of Tantric    
    
Your Yoni, Source of Creation    
massaged in increments    
measures of comfort across the satin  
pillows on which you recline    
    
Unsheathed candles stabbing the darkness  
from around you with daggers of light  
defending your right to shine    
illuminating a mill pond of ripples  
curling as smoke around your pupils    
    
Your arms above your head in surrender  
stilled lips echoing "Please" . . .    
    
But I won't take you, Mary  
not our first night. . .  
    
No  
    
Our first night will be wine to ruby    
your lips, chocolate sliding    
from tongues down our throat  
fire of bathwater and ice between my teeth  
to awaken the dormancy of complacency  
    
To shake the foundation    
of the Ordinary Life you've settled for  
out of disbelief and lack of Hope  
for a Truth you've yearned  
in your Heart of Hearts    
would come to pass  
but never did  
    
You'll fall asleep against my breasts  
having laughed all your laughter  
and cried all your tears  
from the threshing floor  
    
fulfilled, satisfied, and Loved    
without having been penetrated once  
    
Because, My Mary, it's not your  
outward beauty that will enable me    
to climb the fortress walls    
and capture the Kingdom of your Heart    
    
Forever as Best Friend and Lover  
Protector and supporter    
    
But everything about you, Mary  
    
Months of watching    
have passed    
    
It's Tuesday; you're wearing    
that plaid skirt --  
    
It's time I introduced myself.    
~