Random 32

if i pretended to be a canvas, would you paint me?

lie nude upon my back,

while you swirl primaries around my navel,

secondaries across my shoulder blades,

and complementaries through my hair.

if i promised to be a mound of clay, would you mold me?

dry brushing your fingertips

within my personal kiln,

i would love to be your monotype.

achromatic the way that my body engages itself with yours.

together,

we produce wax colors until they bleed from your darkened oil cup and my swollen pinch pot.

coated with the glaze from your papier-mâché,

the result is a collage tinted with hues similar to the shade of our lovemaking.

until tomorrow, this lithograph remains incomplete…