Book Like My Woman
Flipping towards our introduction,
I like to feel, running fingers
up and down under the table of her contents.
I rarely gloss over her glossary -
Her dedications are equally essential.
Sometimes, between the hanging end lines,
are her most novel ideas— exhaled meaning
from her quixotic prose. Give me
the rarest edition, wrinkled ear
bent pages. Give me the anti-heroine
protagonist -No damsels or princesses
with crowns that never age.
I want to find her middle spot,
and dive inside, to unravel her
erotic subplots. Give me
the deepest climax and I will return,
over and over to her, my favorite
chapter. Tickling I love my tomes
heavy—I’m a hardback lover;
her pages grip me as I trace
trying to find the where her
spine loves hiding her softest
space. She feels like a library
book, often handled but never
checked out. I long to open her,
licking the edges and bookmarking
her skin by showing how much
I love the feel of her sweetest preface.