My lover said her blouse
is tight around her chest,
that the air around is too heavy
for her to breathe.

I think about a thousand things
two idle hands can do to a woman
with an aching heart under the
blanket of the night:

1.
From below,
lift attire (the way the wind would)
slide two fingers up oily skin
ignoring gravity, ignoring Physics
up
up
till they get to a temple bounded
by a pair of angels,
kneel to worship,
mould tongue into a snake,
pray lust away-
passionately,
till a river begins to flow from
the throne of mercy,
till her mouth becomes a well
of glossolalia.

2.
Turn her against blind wall,
face first
separate cloth and flesh.
From behind-
stretch forth two hands,
each shaped into a bowl
to eclipse two full moons
dangling from a body,
attempt to squeeze light out of mounds
of fat
slowly at first,
in rhythm
out of rhythm
till
till two bodies burst into a lake of fire.