Erin has posted a very nice little erotic poem at Vivid, which reminded me of one of mine.
I will follow her lead, and put mine behind a cut-away tag, so you can "skip it if that kind of thing bothers you."
Sunday Morning
Azaleas and snails are mating
in the garden. Newsprint rubs
its dark mark on the sheets.
The remains of lobster
and one
pink shrimp curl together
on a plate. I recently read that
men and women are separate,
symbiotic species, the males
superfluous, parasitic. I want
to ease your predacious
appetite, dampen your
unnecessary
shoulder, taste
your briny
needless
tail.
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