Stint

Half in, half running.

My clothes are undone.

Your fingers memorize my

Buttons 

And 

Zippers

And 

Spools of thread.

You are unraveling every one. 

Fingers in hair 

Outlining curls carefully

Like you've sculpted me from the beginning. 

You are my Praxiteles.

I am your Aphrodite. 

Pretend you know what this means.

And then pretend you don't.

Then bend the lines into wordplay

To suit your own. 

Your nose lingers near my toes,
You memorize my ankles
Your eyelashes brush my thighs.

Then the clock is calloused 

And we've been recognized.

Your hands wipe what is left of us
From my breasts.
You do not hover near my heart.

I am just your marble woman.
I am not all that you've got.