There’s a pair of keys glinting atop a shelf in the other room
& my heart is bouldered up over my larynx. We’re not sitting
Together at the couch. I’m leaning against your legs, there’s a
Plush beneath my knees. You asked me, once, of silk: Too soft,
I lulled. A hand’s drifting through my hair, tugging at the roots.
Today I’m learning satin’s splendor, a tight ribbon-wristed free-
Dom orbiting my pulse. What is it that you want, love? To be tied
Is a [hypo]thesis on trust: not if pain should find me, but that
If it does, you’ll see me through it. Here in the other room lies
A miracle I wrap my legs around, my symposium on faith: You
Haven’t hit me in years. Permission is something you learned
To accept. I baptize in the giving of it. I’m saying: here, for you,
I know I’m a good boy because you say I’ve been, & decisions
& choices are synonyms for yours & mine. It’s not time to say no
That’s the miracle, it’s that you give it to me. I want what you want.
We rock harder, then silver twists above my eyes. There’s a pair
Of clicks & soon your name is all that fountains from my lips.
Everything I know begins with Please. Everything I know ends
With Sir: at the headboard where my wrists are cuffed, I come
To sit beside him atop the clouds. I can breathe.