- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Saturday Morning
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Roused from a savage torpor
Eyelids retract
She turns a baleful gaze on a new day
Ennui dripping from every movement
She slides thru the chill morning air
To the kitchen
ssssss...ssssss...sssss
Good, she’s making coffee
Coming back down the hall
I hear her nails clicking on the floor
Through the carpet
Flickering tongue leaves an acrid sheen
Over cracked lips
Now next to me, she strikes!
Whitecaps on the waterbed
Throw us to the floor
Oh God!
She’s feeling playful
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