The challenge for my Creative Writing Group was to write something erotic!
My hand has five fingers
Every one of them is for you:
The thumb to brush tears from your cheek
The index to trace the curve of your back
The second to enter your sanctum
The third to play falsetto to the melody of the second
The pinky to promise my eternal faithfulness
My hand conducts our concert.
Sleep lingering like the blanket of the night
You slumber on
White linens drape your back
My finger traces initials in an imaginary heart
carved for eternity in English oak
Forgetting our infidelity lies in pieces on the hotel floor.
Forlorn I found it in the corner of Jay’s Antiques Emporia
Surrounded by military memorabilia, garden tools, and 60s psychedelia.
A departed dressmaker’s wire frame, set to fit a 50s starlet without a name.
This potential pre-Raphaelite Ophelia lay hidden in rust and dust
The buried paraphernalia of my imagined lust.
I vinegar away the ancient grime from joints oxidised by time
I lubricate and adjust the points that size the waist and bust
With Master’s hands I work away to mould a face from potter’s clay
with true artistic guile, I Max Factor in your favourite ‘Marilyn Sunset Red’ smile.
I nourish life into my design
I clothe her in the Calvin Klein dress I bought for you
Her tiny feet inside your bridal Jimmy Choo’s
I chose the wig with great affection – brunette of course
Combed and styled in consummate perfection.
I raise her up, the music’s on. The band is playing our song.
We swing and sway and in its passion perish
Transmuted into cherished fetish
I disappear among your breasts
Your body yields to my request
”You’re here! You’re here! My wanton sweet desire.
Come, come, and come again my shameless fire.”