pin her
against the biographies of Poe
against the critiques and collections of
gothic short stories.
hold her
wrists by the sonnets,
smooth her spine with flirtations
of Byron, no, of Donne,
and approach her thighs with fingers
strumming gently past Wilde.

the illustrations in picture books
will shatter
by her moans, and weak dialogue
in a slow soft wave
will dangle over, along her throat.

tell stories with your lips
with your fingers.

let the atlas books rewire and show
the path from here
to Antarctica on her
breasts.

kiss,
for dummies,
let it guide you to her stomach.

and dare the dictionary
the encyclopedia,
the thesaurus
to define her.