- Erotic Poetry
- Fate
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Things could have gone different but they never do.
There was the way she crossed her legs, little things,
microscopic things like the way the sun played
in the fine downy hairs dusting golden arms, elaborate ass-
things no one could see but he in this moment.
It could not have been otherwise.
He was destined to lay with his cheek on her belly
in the grass, loving the left-eyed the view of her
gently shadowed hill sloping down to the cavern
between her mons and the hem of her baggy
cut-off shorts hanging low on her hips.
A diamond stupa glittered in her navel.
Every form of moisture she exudes is nectar to him-
he is high on her sweetness and sweat and in the monthly
cycle of things he revels in her crimson flow,
both tasting of it and mingling his seed with her own.
Never before has a woman inflamed him so.
Things could have gone different but they never do.
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