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Click hereA bright, hot day – sun
flailing the grey rocks.
On timid feet
I followed her
up the narrow path to
the abandoned village –
the roof of the church
caved in and all houses
mere shells. On a tree
a big, ripe fig among
the shining leaves, so ripe
it was about to spill
its sweet contents. She plucked it
and showed me to open it
with my thumbs,
and look, and taste
the red, red inside.
I put my mouth onto it,
I put out my tongue
and tasted, and sucked…
The next morning
found me abandoned,
foolishly smiling
and dying for more.
And how utterly erotic! You have a talent for suggestion which makes non-erotic subjects sizzle, and makes erotica hotter than ever,
I really liked this poem. The "roof of the church caved in and all houses mere shells" combined with "sun flailing the grey rocks" makes me think the "narrow path" is near the Mediterranean Sea in a country once compared to this ripe fruit.
I was thinking what a great metaphor the village you created was. It allows the fig to take on even more meaning. Cheers!
This is very nicely done. I like what you have done with the breaks between stanzas, and the ending picking up on the abandoned village/abandoned individual is strong.