Heel

Heel

Under the crush of his hand    
on her black velvet panties    
Soon to fall like her original sin    
She wears only her skin    
As his handprints burn an Anasazi path    
On derriere too young for sorrow of Plath    
But remedied by the fetish of her tomorrow    
That Sylvia could not borrow    
He heals her marks with aloe to feel    
After her golden command to heel  
Her Beaujolais bottom shines      
With rosy midnight rhymes
Her cherried lips glisten with love’s delight