S.W.A.K.

I have inked my words upon your heart

I wish them to stay there

I lick each of your lips

with my outstretched tongue

all the way around

up and down

to ensure my message is enveloped

and securely sealed

I’ve sent you on your way

into the hurried day

with no address for delivery

waiting for you to be returned back to me

unopened.

Hours I wait…

dark, lonely, late

when at last you are dropped into my box

I tear you open at once

to find my words, still safe

etched on your heart.

Are you ready for more ink, dear?

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Ornithology

She glides into the night in silk feathered flight

Her quickening heart rises up to sky.

Reaching for the butter’d cup,

surrounded by the mossy muff

and with his ladle drinks it up

unraveling ribbony silken shreds

from her skin

it begins…

 

 

Wings spread, coasting down to snatch

with spoon-billed beak, the catch ,

ribboned silk all around, spirals descending

into the onyx sea.

 

To make seen the water’s rippling,

moonlit,  upon obsidian wings
He brings her, featherless

to the nest

and dines on blood and thigh and breast

 

 

 

And in the currents of ocean, dark

he lifted a single thread from it’s stark,

a silken ribbon to weave

among the twigs and moss and bones,

his throne, a trophy case

a resting place

and her beak tossed among the downy pile

the aftermath of a hungry night.

 

 

 

A nightlong prize

He likes the getting as much as the having

He opens doors and brings her flowers

He gives her his hand when they drive

He keeps her heart alive

 

He likes the pursuing as much as the perspiring

He cooks and cleans and whispers things in her ear

He tells her she’s pretty and rubs her feet

He’s very sweet.

 

He likes the wooing as much as the whoopee

He plays Nat King Cole and melts her heart

He fetches her coffee and wine

He’s the world’s best Valentine

 

She loves his tenderness as much as his tenderloin

She rewards his imagination with a whirlwind of pleasure.

She enjoys being caught as much as being chased

He gets her biggest embrace.

 

There is no guarantee he is not looking for

something more from her.

But there is no doubt she will give him anything. Anything. 

He may rest and let her show her grand appreciation.

The exorcism

My demons are getting some exercise

I need to make them good and tired

so for many quiet days

I’ll be relieved of their wicked ways.

 

My devil, doing biceps curls

tells me to go drink with the girls

I talk too much as my brain whirls

and imbibe until I hurl.

 

My imp, I tell him to run laps

my mind, it cramps, and bleeds through gaps

I gasp at such a tortured lapse

and beg for sanity’s firm grasp.

 

Twas squats I ordered Mephistopheles

which almost brought me to my knees

he pulled my skirt and begged, “Please!

I’ll rob your fair beauty should you rid of me.”

 

The exercise that left me vext

came to me in my quiet rest

A nightlong marathon we sext

his searing hand slid to my breast

 

Alas, it was Beelzebub

my soul’s health could join no other club

my fits of craze have no sub

my nourishment came from his nub

 

My demons give me exercise

If I fight they make me tired

they chatter to me on quiet days

saying death rids me not of their wicked ways.

Lovers in a Hot Pocket

It is not fear, my dear, that keeps me here

It is a juvenile resistence to peel back the sheets and face the slap of cold morning air

I cling to our heaven with my head on your chest, and my shoulder snug and nestled under your arm.

Our feet, the friction, like a cricket’s song

and your tenderest kisses placed on forehead’s hairline

Our limbs, toasty pretzel-entwined

our fondling hands speak language signs

And then, how awful we recognize time

 

The shifting blind striped light

The rooster’s pestering crow

nags that we must go

unconfident confidante

I am an unconfident confidante

an insecure security blanket

and I don’t know how much longer I can take it

I am not flattered or aroused

how little you care about your vows

or how battered she leaves your soul

I am not a sympathetic sylph

I am no adorer of adultery

I cannot help it, that I’m sultry

Take charge of your faculties in your facility

practice some humility

and leave me and my love alone

I am uncomfortable and compromised

and your straying words are no surprise

my words are merely pearls to swine

I do not wish to have you thrust

your woes upon my bust

I am not whom to entrust your infidelities

Find a Rabbi, or a preacher

perhaps a friend, a shrink, a teacher

I am merely just a chick you barely know

Part, do not impart

keep on your clothes, and do not disclose

stay dressed, and don’t bother to confess

I have no stake in your sinning

and your values are in conflict with my own

You give chance no credit

and diligence no merit

and you’ve created what you inherit

and what lovely lady would accept

your broken spirit

but one who has one of her own?