tagErotic PoetrySand Tracks and Other Poems

Sand Tracks and Other Poems

byCal Y. Pygia©


Sand tracks narrowing to nothingness
In the distance converge upon the emptiness
Of my transsexual being--a metaphor
For loneliness and vanity, except
There is you, beside the distant cactus,
Full of semen, if not water, to quench
My desert thirst and make me blossom
Anew, a flower sustained by the rarity of you.


Transsexual beauty is a rare thing,
And precious, as is the loveliness
Of ladies born with matching chromosomes;
Do not forget that my comeliness,
Which belongs to but few, belongs to you
The way the earth, if not the moon and sun,
Belong to those whom fate or God's choose.


There are limits to everything we do,
To everything we are; I can lactate,
But I cannot conceive, and I have a cock
Where a lady's cunt should be,
But you still love me, sometimes,
In the dark, when you feel my sleek
Flesh, flaccid or erect, and I open to you
My deepest, most intimate center,
Although there are limits to your love, too,
As when you say, as if complimenting me,
"I wish you could have my baby,"
Although you knew my limitations
Long before you first inseminated my ass.


Moonlight on water,
A shimmering path
To reflected glory
Hurts my eyes
And makes me cry.
Will you walk with me
A while, before dawn
Comes along,
And the night is gone,
And sing to me,
Below the stars,
Of your love for me?
In the morning, we can lie
Together, on the sand,
And pretend our love
Has been born again,
Rekindled by the moon,
A kind of lunar madness,
Frothed with gold.


You are stricter
In your standards
Of gluteal beauty,
Than previous admirers
Of shemale charms,
Prohibiting tattoos,
As you would scars,
Insistent upon small,
Tight compactness,
A clear divide,
A flawless complexion,
Fullness and rotundity,
And, above all,
Golden luminosity.


My last girlfriend had not yet undergone
Cranial surgery, and, quite frankly,
Looked a little Neanderthal
Or Cro-Magnon about the skull,
Which endeared her to me,
For she was, otherwise,
Lovely, and the masculine bones
Of her bold face enhanced
The beauty of her otherwise
Feminine transsexual charms.


For his birthday, yesterday,
I gave my boyfriend poems
Instead of cookies, and he
Sampled them, finding each
A little pasty or overdone,
Despite their heart shapes
And candy sprinkles; next year,
I am baking him a gift certificate,
Which has no heart or tears,
And shall let my girlfriend
Lick frosting from the spoon.

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byCal Y. Pygia© 0 comments/ 29930 views/ 0 favorites

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