Let me brush away protest with your hair

Let me brush away protest with your hair,

unbutton passion with your blouse,

stroke red blood into your pale lips,

make of you a river of wriggling, squirming life.

You are so clean and orderly.

I want to play to the secret smiles

that dance over your lips.

I want to disarrange the perfection

of your careful control.

Afterwards you can tie together again

your vagabond hair,

hide your scented body under stylish clothes,

stuff joy back into the corners of your eyes.

No one will ever know

that you carry laughter between your thighs

except me,

and I know already.