I want to meet my love at the Sarah Winchester Mystery House
Deep in the ripe plum fruit
Of a dark purple evening.
I want her to french me into another world,
Half way up a stairway to nowhere.
I want her hands in my hair;
I want her to ride my thigh like a bareback Indian.
I want to fall through a wall onto prairie grass.
I want my love in soft leather and buckskin,
And handy with a rifle.
If I could have these things,
I would open a door onto thin air--
I would turn around, half out of the Sarah Winchester Mystery House,
And smile at her
With one leg dangling behind me in the darkness,
And the other called, as if by seance,
To wrap itself around the slender small of her back
Like a summoned spirit.
for She To Whom I Am Slavishly Devoted.