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Woman Who

Woman Who

woman who’s lips are a complex mystification
conforming structurally into my own
i touch my nose lightly onto her lips
then swiftly maneuver down
to buoyantly lick and twist and braid
and weave our tongues
like fruity moist leather candy

woman whose  jaw nodes
expel succulence into her mouth
i nibble on her orifice
and froth it up
with ambrosic juices
i am drenched with her devotion

woman who leans into my body
and settles like putty into my nooks
and clings to my frame like cellophane
our skins reach through our clothes
longing to unite the contrast
of textures, of colors, of hormonal scents
and the similitude of taste and mettle
as we smelt into robust regalement

woman who’s seat is softness
where all her life sits
who’s handfuls of flesh
are the size of her heart
she rolls herself along my thighs
and rubs her scent onto my own
we reach around each other’s torsos
to hold our fundamental interconnection
to brace our loads freely
and without calculation


This was posted for: Poetics The Other.

I posted this for Brian Miller who caught me the other day on my Fruit Leather poem, saying that it sounded very sensual, and I actually took some parts of this and turned it from a sensual poem to a food poem. And well…that’s how to use words. So Brian, this is for you!  🙂

Also posted on:

Mag 97

Photo Credit: Was  Jean Harlow  The  Sexiest Sex Symbol of the 30s.