She Doesn't Read Pornography

in adolescence she stays up until
the sun warms the far side of her horizon,
enraptured by light on those pages that
seem to radiate gold and the touch of dust,
the paper sucking moisture from each fingerprint
even leaving her mouth dry as she follows the words
lips vaguely parted, and bare legs
bending where they might

she drags her tongue across her lips,
slowly, bringing moisture back
and she is aware of the textures around her;
the floating particles of dust illuminated by her lamp;
the temperature of the darkness outside her window.
she reads these poems late at night
and sighs with each stanza
savoring the mouthy syllables,
sucking them, feeling kisses.