- Erotic Poetry
- Corn
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We are running hand in hand through corn,
in t-shirts and shorts with bare feet digging
into the soft earth moist and black, turning
here, there, bursting through the rows until
suddenly coming to a stop. Hearts racing,
bodies press together; shirts up, shorts off.
Entwined like vines, we slither to the ground
as the field is filled with our moans and cries
and the cornfield sheds her rustling husks
while bending her erotic ears to better hear.
Ancient fertility rites are being observed.
Sperm-bearing pollen grains jar loose and
the sweet seed seeps into the good earth.
America, your corn is holding your lovers
in the breadbasket of an intimate embrace!
