Election

In the Republic of you and I,
There are stone structures,
Beautiful buildings of
Law and Truth and Science.
Deep inside the hallowed halls of hope,
Plato himself would seek
Warmth and wonder, light and hunger.

The library of the mind is full
Of books and looks and liberties.
Eyes quickly averted upward
Are drawn to urgencies below.
Gilded ceilings and marbled floors
Cannot compare to our most democratic discourses.

Yet, I will not pull you down the iron stair,
Circular and curvy.
I will not beckon with bared shoulders,
And no more boulders -- monuments of an ageless love.

I will allow my eyes to meet yours,
And trace with my finger
Your lips.
I will wait and watch as they part
To form your Election:
A selection
Of the silken nakedness of two souls.