To tuck away
your little secrets
inside of me,
Every thrust a deep confession in my walls.
My pussy is your church, and we incant
in slick satin and blood-velvet cushioning.
I take a Bible and place down its leather-
bound body, upon which to rest my knees.
The chime around my neck rings scintillating,
a small nutshell bead rolling around in metal casing.
My hands are wrapped at the wrists behind
my back, my body is bare. Flesh is tasted by
candlelight, a licking, flicking flame:
you’d like to whip your tongue in me.
My eyes gaze up, languid pools of earth-chocolate melt,
and my mouth is your glistening pink dominion-
I am sticky-sweet between my thighs,
running sugar-peach syrup.
(title after the Kim Novak and James Stewart film,
after which the magick shop in ‘The Good Witch’ series is also named)