Sanded Teak

Your legs curl beneath you
And I imagine roots
Anchored in the banks of the Nile
Firm
Luxurious.

My hands glide your thigh
Smooth
Like teak
Planed, sanded
Oiled with touch
An anointing
Sanctified
Redemptive.

You smell of earth.
The tangy scent of growing things
Of the Africa I will never know
The Serengeti’s wild heat
Growling in hunger and pleasure.

Reclining, I map your face
In rays dappled, through palm fronds
I see the glory of the lioness
Proud
Untamed.

I cannot stay.
I am not equal to your heart
No match for your fire
Though I want to be.

You lay in my lap
Full of promise
And legs of sanded teak.