Burlesque

(Petrarchian Sonnet, August 2015)

Black satin glove discarded on the floor;
a smooth descent of zipper down your spine
disclosing inch by inch, by clear design,
a glimpse of pearly flesh. You promise more
than you deliver. Desperate, we implore,
we beg you, Take it off. You pout, recline,
expose a shapely leg where slits align,
content for us to hunger and adore.

A sultry soundtrack drives you to reveal
in increments the charms your clothes conceal.
In thong and tassels finally you pose;
a teasing smile, a shimmy, then you steal
away to leave me with a racing heart
and wonder: is this Lust or is it Art?


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