He was still in his pajamas when the package arrived,
as he peeked through the window and saw the delivery men
pull the box from the truck and carry it end to end up the walkway.
He rushed to open the door, careful, careful,
Put it here, gestured to the middle of his living room.
After the men left he slowly ran a penknife along the box seams,
sliced through the jaggy edges, and when all seemed perfectly
quiet and still, he parted the flaps and peered inside.
Inside, wrapped in plastic, her, finally, all his now.
The light through the curtains fell just so
in a brilliant dullness, her eyes opened
but did not dilate in recognition.
He touched her lips, her nipples, the tip of her nose,
as a devout fingering small fetishes.
Her arrival was timed perfectly with his departure
her mouth half-opened, as if trying to remember his name.
Appetite can span great distances, flesh can turn
on itself to reveal the wires within even as the tongue
forgets the grooved ridges of the palate.
And her hands commanded:
not here, but here.