Push apart your white legs.
Let my eyes see
those rapacious followings of
roaming aisles
of the world's
best candy shop,
and creep,
a little guilty,
up to the gumdrop counter
past where your stockings end.

Let me ponder
the shape of paradise,
a philosopher
discovering anew,
the sleek truth,
that the universe
is made of water.

I want to marvel
at the soft hair
that frames
your hemmed mouth--
mouse-brown moss
from a marble cave.

Part further,
and I'll watch breathless
how your lily opens,
greeting warm rain
and my nectar-seeking look.

And please, crest
of vanilla skin,
show me that small, smooth
stone of pleasure
that hides
your overwhelming secret--
the reflex arc of heaven.

Viesta 98~