You are my Poem!

You are my poem!
The poem I have still to write.
If you’d let your perfumed body
be my paper for a day,
I’ll let my silent fingers
be your pen for a day.
Let me mix
my verbs and nouns..
.. and gently pour them
onto the curve of your back.
Let me weave my adverbs and adjectives,
and slowly spread them…
over your heaving chest.
Let me write all day long —
till sun yawns.. and moon wakes.
Let me write all night long —
till stars hide.. and dawn creeps.
Oh let me gently
fill the spaces between your fingers,
with the ink of my mute hands.
And let me softly scribble
forbidden poetry into your ears,
.. and make garlands from it
to decorate my wavy hair.
Let my words..
.. letters
.. and spaces
take forms of balmy simpers
on your honey nectar lips —
like verses never penned before
on your lazy waxing smile.
O’ let time write all the way..
till the paper is filled!
Let moments write in any way..
till my ink is dried!
Let my fingers bleed unknown languages..
into the voice
of your trembling heart.
Let my fingernails 
speak a thousand cosmic dialects,
upon the planes of your blank skin.
Let me break every norm of literature!
Let me reject,
every form of grammar!
And then..
and then let me simply forget,
where to put my commas
my colons
my full stops…
so our poem doesn’t pause,
.. doesn’t stop
.. doesn’t end
Tell me this much, my Gibbous Moon!
If I make you love every line,
every metaphor,
every synonym —
even the antonym of my Poetry —
will I get to keep the Poem
… and the Book too?
Yes, You!
You are my poem!
The poem I have still to write!


~ IZ ~