It's Time

That sinful sax plays low enough
to honeycomb down
your white satin gown, all the way 
to tanned brown ankles
and beyond, to your
teasing, scarlet-tipped and polished toes
strapped ‘n wrapped in soft black velvet
melting into diamond bows, buckling
like my knees, kneeling
to please you, but -
not yet, not yet …
 
Tawdry trumpet muscles in
through  gin ‘n smoky haze, riffing now
to laze around you, like a halo
drifting down, surrounding you with sultry light
scent of musk,  and husky laughter, but -
not yet, not yet …
 
Finally, I wet my lips, breathe in deep
and as my clarinet glows
you look up at me
in faint surprise
as my disguise is blown
and notes of black and white
are thrown, like confetti of desire
to cling close and stick to every silken curve you own -
I’ll lick them off, one by one, but -
not yet, not yet ...
 
At last, you know,
 your eyes meet mine and I expose
the music of my soul
for you and only you
I'll play the dark and folded valleys of your body
and take you soaring over white-capped peaks of fire

 for tonight’s sublime

and yes -

it’s time