This poem is by my friend Deana Platt, check it out:
Book in me
If I was a prostitute and you were my john…
Firstly, you’d stand erect to my command
and climb on up to the top shelf
where I’d demand you’d pull
me gentle down.
Quickly – snuff my jacket of fairy dust deposit
Take off my jacket - don’t hang me in the closet!
Now knead on down my spine
- feel the arch that leads to that
yearning place of wonderous words
Lay – and I’d gently caress
your hand to a page that curls up to squeeze
and joins a member of that rhythmic movement
Secondly
Open the page – the one with the corner kink
This is where I want you to stop, think
and drink the smell of that intoxicating ink
Within these pages are
Cardinal sin
A fetish craving - a demand for more
because words do that honeyed in my trap.
From a deliberate voice you’d take and trust
Whether eloquent or natural –
Crisp, ripped or rough
I’ll suck you dry in a blood member rush
My flicker would dart from pleasure to pain
Causing rapid eye movements
To salivate and dribble and –
Take my lead
There’s more on these pages week after week
Enter on in for a pleasurable tweak.
I wouldn’t take your money nor ram down throat
As I smother do not choke
but open-mouthed
I’d give you a tour of my insides
A guaranteed blow of a trumpet aching
song of gratitudinal pain and pleasure
Taken at your leisure
Every time you open me
An ecstatic pinnacle of release
A place to visit…
Come visit
I hope you understand the need for a long term fix always wins over from a short-term kiss
If you book in me
What you’ll always get is
hungry for more special effects
of linguistic mix
far greater enjoyed
than a short-term fix
of a kiss
of who-knows what
dear john
So pick me up
I’m a sure best must