SEXY Poem for Poetry Thursday
Happy sexy Poetry Thursday!
Hmmm ... This is not the poem I intended to write, but it's what I ended up with. As far as the process, it feels like some older stuff written in my mid-20s, which feels light years from where I am now creatively. But seems appropriate given the topic. Also, I can say that I was reaching for bolder "let's-just-call-a-spade-a-spade" language, trying to push the envelope between being poetic and being crass. *gulp* It did feel like a stretch to write so maybe that's a good thing.
So I'll just paraphrase what Lynn says on her blog: Yeah, I could say that the reader shouldn't assume I'm the person in the poem but who am I kidding.
Here's a poem about my sex life. Enjoy!
*blush*
Sex and Pizza
Once a classmate told me
sex is like pizza:
no matter how bad it is,
it’s still pizza. Strange, coming
from one of the unsexiest people
I knew. Didn’t believe him
until my early 20s
when all I wanted was hard,
kinked-out, unexplainable sex.
9 ½ Weeks sex. Blue Velvet sex.
The small town of my body
sent me outward to a friend
as local as my fingertips.
His body, beautifully taut,
and I was happy hour
poured into a miniskirt.
Before we knew it,
the quick blows of our bodies
struck together like rocks
catching spark.
Ass up, head down,
no stroking, no kissing,
just clumsy, fractional fucking
that was over before it began.
I remember walking
into the unfamiliar daylight,
sleep deprived and scorched
like a house gutted by fire.
Years later, I think
my classmate was right.
How else can I explain
the lip-biting, sloppy goodness
of exploration, of bodies seeking
those fine mistakes and digressions,
the cock and the pussy,
the world dividing into hemispheres,
sliced into its imperfect selves.
(Also, here's a non-sexy poem I wrote this past week: Afternoon Commute Love Song.)
Hmmm ... This is not the poem I intended to write, but it's what I ended up with. As far as the process, it feels like some older stuff written in my mid-20s, which feels light years from where I am now creatively. But seems appropriate given the topic. Also, I can say that I was reaching for bolder "let's-just-call-a-spade-a-spade" language, trying to push the envelope between being poetic and being crass. *gulp* It did feel like a stretch to write so maybe that's a good thing.
So I'll just paraphrase what Lynn says on her blog: Yeah, I could say that the reader shouldn't assume I'm the person in the poem but who am I kidding.
Here's a poem about my sex life. Enjoy!
*blush*
Sex and Pizza
Once a classmate told me
sex is like pizza:
no matter how bad it is,
it’s still pizza. Strange, coming
from one of the unsexiest people
I knew. Didn’t believe him
until my early 20s
when all I wanted was hard,
kinked-out, unexplainable sex.
9 ½ Weeks sex. Blue Velvet sex.
The small town of my body
sent me outward to a friend
as local as my fingertips.
His body, beautifully taut,
and I was happy hour
poured into a miniskirt.
Before we knew it,
the quick blows of our bodies
struck together like rocks
catching spark.
Ass up, head down,
no stroking, no kissing,
just clumsy, fractional fucking
that was over before it began.
I remember walking
into the unfamiliar daylight,
sleep deprived and scorched
like a house gutted by fire.
Years later, I think
my classmate was right.
How else can I explain
the lip-biting, sloppy goodness
of exploration, of bodies seeking
those fine mistakes and digressions,
the cock and the pussy,
the world dividing into hemispheres,
sliced into its imperfect selves.
(Also, here's a non-sexy poem I wrote this past week: Afternoon Commute Love Song.)
Comments
Yep, works for me. This poem is just as good as pizza.
Funny, I almost cut the line "happy hour poured into a miniskirt." And now I'm glad I didn't.
Can't wait to read everyone's posts this week!
x
Sorry if next time that I take a bite of pizza, I'll have a little January buzzing in me.
"as local as my fingertips"
"just clumsy, fractional fucking"
"the lip biting, sloppy goodness"
Damn woman!
A hot sticky summer night continues to keep me from sleep tonight.
this one hits you right between the eyes, no punches pulled. very carnal. i like this...it made me smile a lot :)
Great line, great poem.
*still blushing*