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I gave her the quiver,
teeth and tongue a tornado in that fever fruit,
she offered the slick sin, the skin of savage symphony,
it was a technique of tender tickle
the absence of which producing terrifying tease,
inner thighs tight on my cheeks in a moment of sprayed splenor,
her hands around my head as if they were a crown,
sex sinking so deep into nerves that love was pain with a demand,
hair of tangled trust entwined in my grip of desperate possession,
she got my every inch, several at that and dared no more,
in my thrust towards heroism the serenity
of helplessness overcame me and I knew she was my Queen,
nails in my ribs and her bite on my neck,
our fragilities made of us beasts conquering falsehoods of fatality,
names encoded in sweat and scratches -

J.A.B.

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