Canvas

your back is a blank canvas
where my skillful hands paint with
desire, bathing the nude canvas with
oil as my hands feel the
smoothness of your back like a
night sky with a constellation of
moles

I inhale the scent of grief as I
color the canvas with the tint of
tears

painting your back follows a pattern,
burying the alphabet is an
art, lost until love found
reason

pressing, pressing my fingers
against the virgin canvas, I stroke
with my gentle hand, brushing your
back back and forth, I mix
my salty tears with oil as
I imprint my signature on your
back