so....i'm getting a book of my poetry published later this year and so right now i'm wading through all this older poetry...looking for gems....and there are some, needing a bit of dusting off, sprucing up. Its lots of fun. I'm even combing old journals that might have unfinished bits and pieces. Anyway...this one is about 10 yrs old....and what makes me chuckle my old whore chuckle is that i can't remember who i wrote it to....
ode to a butch top
i was walking through the woods in late afternoon sundown
when i came to a sudden stop
and for the longest time simply stood staring
at the mountains absorbed
in the memory of the precise moment
your hand finally reaches my cunt your fingers
sliding into my pleasure your need
pulling me apart from the waking world
your easy fingers making me
blood and water rolling standing so still
as the sun set completely lost
in the moment you come in.