The sweet aroma of danger floated through
the air/ the steam/ almost impenetrable
to the eyes/ sat heavy against everything
it touched my towel hung low to my hips
the metallic glint and glimmer of proud
wedding bands against the aura of black
shoot through the mist fifth and sixth senses
awaken bare skins baring souls thrice naked
compared to what the mind could ever know
it’s very carnal and it’s very beautiful
and I wonder am I the perversion of good
that I’ve read about that I’ve been warned
against/ could it be that I am actually
among the monsters of the dark
and if I even prayed would God want to find
me through a thickened mist as this
and who am I/ should I be this person and
what would he think
and if we saw the light of day
and if reality were to walk through
a chambered door would everything
change/ would I change
and I am unclean
and stranger/ Rousseau/ I say/ let me ravage
your thoughts like flies to a most ripened fruit.
Let me be the fruit of your labors.
Your obsession.
Your desire.