She opened
With a seeking thirst
For something
That I had within my fingers
Tickled
   with conception
Rattled 
   from perceptions
Rolling in the isles
Of piles
   of files
Invaded with emotion
   in the strut
Of sated penetration
Linked with veneration
Drawn in bated pleasure
Found in grated treasure
Sifted in the sieve
Of broken time

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr