missing you while you read about africa

You mull under giant leaves, deep
in the Belgian Congo.

I'd like to wind one into a sarong,
something you'd want to peel back slowly.

Instead, I thumb the books you've finished,
wonder which words got stuck in your head.

You didn't notice my short dress, or the hint
of violets I dabbed over my blue-veined heart.

Even as I swayed, so my hem lifted like mist
over a harvest moon, you read on.

I want to rise over your dark continent,
drag my hands through thick foliage

cling like thick-sweet mango
to the roof of your mouth.

Listen to this poem
 Appears in Stirring V6 : E2.
This poem also took 2nd place in the July PBL competition.