Her First President

Bondage was good for us. "Master-me, you are me taking me.” She was right, I would lose myself in her. She’s related to George Washington, A man of his time. A black girl for all times. George is silent. Mind brings her to me now as she arranges the form and flavors of desire, her flesh a sensual braille for shaping hands, limbs a binding chimera, flesh capturing flowing silks - a choreography of her muted history. Inarticulate passions lock us together, we are deep sea divers pushing against an erotic gravity. Somewhere in another story, an aged Washington shoves his shriveled member into another young black woman. Should we honor both? Dark is the page we now turn. Truth or not, love or maybe. Once we were most pleased to burn down the president's mansion again and again.