You and Solomon

Your two breasts are like two fawns,
twin fawns of a gazelle
grazing among the lilies.
-Song of Songs 4:5

Your breasts are like wine glasses,
two glasses of red you've poured
for me to taste with my fingertips.

Your eyes are like dimes,
the glint in the pupil like the torch
on the reverse.

Your hair is like an ounce of tea leaves
unfolding in the kettle of my lap
giving up their liquor to me.

Your shoulders are like two beaches,
one where I found a bone in the sand,
one where I found the terrier.

Your belly is like my porch,
the corner of my porch where
I sit and drink my tea.

You skin is like Kansas City,
both sides of the city
with all of their nighborhoods.

Your mouth is a lake,
a lake I swim on looking
for a fish to catch.

Your feet are metaphores,
twin metaphore with twenty
implications for my mouth.