Dress Me Like Poetry in Silk Stanza Stockings


Dress me like poetry in silk stanza stockings,
in pearls of metered verse on a syllabic strand.
Brush rhythm through my hair and rhyme on my lashes,
and paint me in tones of syntax and sonnet sand.

Dangle diction diamonds to adorn my face,
like cascading charms of sweet metaphoric prose.
Give me blue ballad bonnet alliteration
and assonant slippers with repetitious bows.

With sestina skirt and connotation corset,
I am the allusion and the symbol of love.
I am the onomatopoeia twilight song,
the euphonious moonlight that shimmers above.

So dress me like poetry, in pleasant pantoum
or in the cacophony of a villanelle,
in the ode of hyperbole or anapest,
in romantic Terza Rima or Terzanelle.

Dress me like poetry with the breath of your kiss,
and let your precious flower blossom in the night.
Then, move mountains for this moment and disrobe me.
My petals stroked by the gentle hands of moonlight.