Black Velvet
Maria Netto
Were ever hands fashioned like yours?
With a one hundred manifestation
Oh, why go on?
I curl into your velvet breast,
Where I am ensconced and secure.
You respond by letting me hear
your heart beat.
Sometime racing, sometime receding.
But at all times belting out that sweet sonnet.
Drawing in it, I beg respite
And gaze upwards,
Only to meet the dilated orbs of velvet eyes.
I draw once more
And impale myself to you,
Black velvet.