- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Reading in Bed
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Lounging on my bed,
you read to me,
your voice gravelly
and gravely picking apart
the sentences into words,
weighing them down,
burying them in the moment.
I scratch your chin, cactus like,
and your face rumples with your smile.
My heart threatens treason
so I busy my mouth, down south.
Distracted, your voice hangs in the air,
squirming under this duress,
and then it’s over.
You pull me to your throbbing chest
picking up that old, battered book.
I listen intently, but don’t hear a word.
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