In Spire
climbing her legs
like a ladder
each wrung
bringing me
closer to
the top of
her bell
tower
pressing her lips
like a doorbell
ringing to see
by chance who
answers
needing
not to
wait
too long for her lips
to open so to enter
entertaining tongues
with sweet
sloppy
saliva
nectar
never
need her flower
speak or for me
to sneak for she
has left her
welcome
mat
for
me
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