- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Birthing
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He's on his way – there's no stopping him now;
I long to lash out, to shout that I feel
like some enormous, saddled beast – a cow
perhaps, penned in this surreal raw deal,
that's bellowing fear through white-knuckled pain,
rolling and coasting high peaks and low troughs
of endless, relentless waves that again
and again pull, surge, pull and will not STOP!
You and I thrashed like this, entwined as one
many times – arched, clawing, trying to seize
that hard, fast moment until we would come
together to a quiet, quivering peace.
Creation spills from intense pleasure, yet we
are rudely expelled through extreme agony.
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