Womb Service

18 03 2010

when she asked me to give her a massage
all the poetry in my brain hissed from my ears
and my nose enclosed the velvet lotion on her back
and then lower and lower still

and the tang of cooking meat and coconuts
a smell that encompassed me like a color
my nostrils had a memory and my fingers
had a mind of their own panic for moisture

it was like the mouth of a kissing fish
a signal from pulsing muscular morse code
dot-dit-dot dit-dot ahhhhh
my finger on the key to her groans

the groan came from deep in her throat
I had to find it, I probed with my most
sensitive instrument
and probed and probed again

I found the groan and doused it with generations
of sweet viscous eternal life
her eyes saw the future and the past in one glaze
she tipped well.




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