Belly Button

I awake suddenly
Like the protagonist
In an erotic nightmare.
She lies there still
Dreaming of edible rose pastures
And wedding rings,
The waist up
Of her world
Bared to the low light.
I admire the valley of
Her chest
And her thin figure
Though drawn most
To the button of her bell.
Even God needs a place
To tie off his human shaped balloons
And accursed lint needs a spot
Other than pockets to hide.
It is a crater, a trench
In the landscape
And it spirals down
A tornado of odd skin
That draws me in.
This is the last sign
That her parents had sex
And I can put my finger into it.
Unlike a red button
Nothing happens
If I press this one
Though I’m glad to know
That if it were undone,
Some things would come out
But not her heart.
This is the axis
Where we align ourselves
When we align
And I could fill it
With wine.
The belly button prevents
Her from being turned inside out
The way wine does.

She doesn’t wake
Even as I kiss it
For this is not
The first time.