Month: May 2019

So, what’s allowed?
Is anything allowed?

Us, this close?
The smell of your colon
And the sound of your breath
Clouding my senses. 

Your legs brushing against mine
Too many times for it to be accidental.
Is that allowed?

Can you caress my hair?
Grip it at the root, 
Pull me in close.

What about head?
Am I allowed to taste you again
My lips gliding down your shaft
The soft cry when your cock goes too far
Will we never have that again?

What if my hand slides over your thigh
Between your legs
And begins to massage your cock.
Are you going to stop me?

What if I lift my skirt
Showing you I’m not wearing any underwear.
Can you, will you resist?

How about anal?
Pounding into me
Hard
As I whimper my pleasure.

Is anything allowed?
Is nothing allowed?

What are the rules now?
Because you want me.
And I want you.

And us lying about this moment
Making any kind of difference for our futures
Is Puritanical, short sighted,
And a waste of amazing fucking.

~ a poem ~

Everything about him sparked something
deep
in me.

One summer, on a warm weekend (almost) night,
with the smoke from the grill scenting the air,
and the boom box busting lyrics
I’ve known but heart since middle school,
raising everyone up on their feet.

The sway of my family,
a gaggle of my cousins,
only a few by blood,
and folks with more grey in their hair
than years in their age,
swelled my heart to bursting.

And then he walked in,
just as the cookout
came to its crescendo.
Somehow, as if on cue.

His hips were like water.
I, like an acolyte,
joined the line of girls
those hips found in their sway.

The smell of burnt herb and his body musk
lingered after our five second dance.
The droplets on his back
caught the falling rays
of the overdue evening.
I licked my lips,
holding back my urge
to drink them up.

And then the beat dropped,
and we all got in our lines
ready for the ritual
of every joyful gathering
before or since.
Babies who couldn’t yet walk
were held up by their mother or grandmother.
This was our community, our communion.

He lined up beside me.
I popped my hips a little more,
shimmied a little deeper,
smiled the whole time.

“Go on, girl,” he hooted.
Oh, I will.

After the electric slide,
he hands slid to my sides.
I popped my hips left, right.
I swung my hair side to side,
bent
all
the way over.

“Girl!”

And then jumped up
and ran to my mother,
hoping my whopping
would at least wait
until after everyone had gone home.

I didn’t care.
I sat beside her,
looked back at him,
and grinned.
It was well worth it.