To His Coy Mistress[es]

i. earl and lady grey

gentle kin,
you have often graced me with your soft-spoken company, bergamot blossoms adorning your dark hair, fragrant as your steamy exhalations. you remind me of simple home and something untouchably elegant, pale and supple when i dress your skin with pallid cream and soften your thin, graceful hands. on a bleak winter evening, snow glittering by lamplight, you are a royal pleasure: a warm complement.


ii. darjeeling

bengali goddess,
i will lay you on the finest saris, those embroidered with gold threads and flawless diamonds that shimmer like your black eyes. you are the champagne of my harem, floral yet astringent, fine-boned cheeks seeking nothing less than perfection. your tiger soul knows your worth, seductive and mysterious; in the autumn, you remind me of leaves ripe with color, falling from my desperate touch: a distant lover.


iii. chamomile

virginal flower,
you are the sun's daughter birthed by soil, a celestial soothing who blooms playfully in bright fields. bathed in rosewater, you are the maiden teasing with impish laughter, your green fingers brushing mine when spring arrives cold and bitter. you whisper that sleep will come, that every season passes in its due time, that loathsome slush will melt and the earth will burst with beauty like yours: a steady centre.


iv. ginger

unabashed favorite,
you are the exotic spice with whom i wish to make a marriage bed. i will feed you sugarcane and honey, embellish our sheets with amber candies in the flush of a sweltering morning, and cool your flesh with ice and fresh peach slices. you settle the creases on my brow and bring to light the fires of my mind, delighting in the way my lips curve around a white porcelain cup to savor your affections: my muse.