Red

This night, the air numbs, but
steam is beading. Windows open,
wicking sweat from fevered skin -
shedding, posing, swaying in
presentation. Offer yourself to me.
 
Cold wind carries in, sailing over
satin and red. Lips are red. Skin is
red. Red blood boiling. Red
marks where nails have arched your
back. Let me make you feel.
 
I have found your voice in tongues
pressed, the salt on your neck, the
gasps you swallow, a composure you
feign. Hands hold your world. You are
opening; alive. I will teach you worship.