Cool winds stroke silent songs
through her bedroom window.
The sky slates stars in the night.
"We endure our own darkness,"
Sicily whispers to me.
I think she has no conception
of what brings me to her bed.
She lights the scented candles
as she does when I come.
She looks at me,
swims through me
with her ocean dark eyes.
Dampness skims our flesh—
the scent of vanilla is upon us.
I move toward her
as she strolls my shoulder
with silk-satin sneaking circles
across my heart,
like the flames that dance
shadows on swallowed walls.
Her lips melt across my face
like the snake that slides on her belly.
I taste the hunger native to her
as my body carves her axis.