This poem is a shadow too close to the light—
disappearing staccatos and harmonics, arpeggios
whispered with lust burning on my tongue.

Blow out the candles
and heed the whispers.

When I turn you into an object—make you a piano
and play your body like a virtuoso,
make you sing like a page of holy writ on fire—

gather all the ashes
and go insane.

Lock me away in a white cell—
turn sentences into syllables,
one word into a sentence.
Dangle the keys, taunt me—
I see the fire on the wall,
hear the echoes in the room.

Say my name, say God's name
and blaspheme, oh yes—oh God yes.

Be like the snow:
fall in sheets
and bury me in you.
Melt in the heat—
and drench.

Lose your mind.
Scream.
I am submerged
in a pool
of lust—
I see gold
and ivory—
keys, skin,
the back of your eyes.