I have been reading too much poetry as of late

I want to make a mirror of your roof,
lay tongue in groove,
want to mock the warped white pine boards with our soft white bodies
and your freckles.
I want to feel their laquered silence
and listen to their sighs in the quiet that falls after ours
and know that it is jealousy
and not the shy heat of morning
that coaxes from them that muted groan.