Down. Down the rhythm of your spine and intertwined in your root chakra. Whispers of affection. In the legends of Babylonia, in the pursuit of mythology. I would give you Solomon’s temple, the gold of pharaohs. Hum in hymns and songs of the tabernacle. Choir across your stomach, etched with whimsy. Speak! I say speak these sins in poetry. I would write seven sins in your skeleton with the edge of my tongue. Down. Give you all of me. Down. Give you most of me. Down. Give you everything. Amen! Amen on your lips, on your chest, on your whole body. Goddamn I would love you stuck in stone from Medusa’s stare. I would give you all of me. Dammit. I would give you soul drenched in BBQ sauce and served with hot wings. Maybe fries.