Prey

Black velvet suits you;
a moleskin leotard of sorts
accentuates the curves
and shapes attesting your
reality. Your substance is
embraced in smoothness
that my eyes efface –
seeking grace of limber
limbs intrigued in subdued
gleam of lantern’s light,
aglow in tent of night.
You are awake and see
the motive in my hands
caress, the smile is wry;
a leonine embrace
suggests I am
the prey.
© 14 March 2008, I. D. Carswell