I need you closely, closer, more.
This is the awaking of gIrl;
gingerly un-not by knot,
my insides still turn nimble
at thought's taste of you.
If I were a tree
and every leaf an eye,
all one thousand and forty five
would be amazed at you.
I need you nearest, nearly, most.
This is the stirring of a lIon,
who, rippling strip by strip,
turns iron cage into a heart
who beats and yearns for you.
If I were love itself,
the gIrl, sleeping by the cage,
would regard the Lion with respect
before being gobbled, eaten up.
.fiNi'*
