Disobedience Is Not Recommended

You have been given a direct order: 
                                                    Touch me. 

Touch me like the last ripe mango July slipped into your hand. 
             like the baseball Barry Bonds blasted for his 762nd homerun
                        like the pale orange underside of Monarch wings 
                                  like Stranger Things speak inside me

Touch me like the crushed velvet wrapped around Prince   
             like a skeleton flower, transparent when it Purple Rains

Touch me like Rumplestiltskin spun me from straw to gold 
             like delicate scales on swishing tales of complicated mermaids 
                         like a mirage of Niagara Falls in the barren Sahara 

Touch me like the saxophone Coltrane pressed between his lips
             like E flat minor chords of Love Supreme dreaming my dream  

Touch me like a Tom Ford suit grazes thick muscle  
             like the tip of Monet’s brush curving the Japanese Bridge
                           like your teeth scrape the creme from inside an Oreo

Touch me like Veronica’s veil on the way home from Golgotha  
            like an open-mouthed gargoyle guarding Notre-Dame Cathedral
                          like dark complex sherry in oak casks in catacombs 

Touch me like wedding confetti you found in your suit pocket
            like your biceps accept the assignment to press me to your chest  

Touch me like you’ve just unearthed my most precious artifact
            like an Egyptian mummy in The Field of Reeds
                        like your soul polished my skin till it glows from within  

                                 You’ve grown hot pads for hands and I’m scalding