- Erotic Poetry
- Corset
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Corset
Blistered on the insides
the white meat of fingers, from pulling
from pulling, love. Don't you know?
the curve is created, auto-manufactured
auto-didact, while we are at it
fumbling, on the inside of fingers
where no one sees the blister,
on the inside where no one can see
I made it myself
I made myself
uncertain on the inside, stunning them all.
But I see it. I see it and I know
like I know the lacing held in my teeth for the brief
second. Not to lose the taut
not to lose the curve that baits you
The least of all I have. You cannot know.
- COMMENTS
Tzaraabout 15 years agoand I find the line break "brief / second" inapt (perhaps because the poem is a little mystifying to me), but overall I very much liked it, particularly the repetitions and near-repetitions, which seem to emphasize the kind of ritualized aspect of the poem.<p>
I know. I'm blabbing. Kind of stupidly, as usual. Liked the poem, though.
