Contra Love
Spider love.
Smashing himself into the inner crook of my foul-smelling underarm.
The right one. Not the bad one.
Smelling my flesh. Sniffing around me.
licking me.
Smitten, eager for the dance of togetherness to rear its ugly head.
I gently extract him, and lavish him with a lover’s kiss.
He bites my lip. Hard!
A challenge.
We begin our mating dance.
Contra Love Written 9-24-2018
Poetry Contest: Contra Sponsor: Jesse Rowe
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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