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Click hereHer words evoke her body and I am caught
in the slipknot of sex, hung
upside down on a metaphor, waiting
to be either skinned or cut down.
I'm not sure I can beat the strange wonderfulness of the anonymous comment here, so I'll just say:
Yow. Yum. As always.
To be as your coverlet, wet as
Zinnias on the last day of
April, plastered petal to chest.
Risen dawn and a ring of flowers
Announce your fragrance of readiness.
Such a slender poem that it doesn't have much of an opportunity to grab a reader's attention. If you remove "in the slipknot of sex" from the poem, you pretty much have a thin woman in a pantsuit. But when that phrase is added, the woman changes into a one-piece leopard spandexy thingy -- a tasteful one. :) Oh, the excitement.
This poem has been selected for listing in Wednesday's New Poems Review.<br>
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