Oh! prude librarian
with bookish glasses and sensible shoes
of taut hair and pursed lips
so precise and so sharp
a knife through the stacks
you cut a swath in the dusty air
right to the Dewey decimal point
as you fulfill his request
to watch you walk
in the guise of citations required
to finish his work

Oh! crude thoughts
and wonder at what earthy delights
lay in the landscape of that body
lush and foreign and hidden
beneath such pristine domestic clothing
his eyes see you already beneath him
hair down, as loose as he imagined
your objections would be
he has you naked and writhing
laid open like a book on the sorting table
he pores through you once, from start to finish
and then again from top to bottom
a literary masterpiece to be savored
and a damn fine read

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