- Erotic Poetry
- Sex after Poetry
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POETRY AFTER SEX
I just don’t get poetry she tells me
As I lay naked against her
My head resting on her belly
I look at her and kiss the bone between
Her breasts, reaching up for a slim book
On the shelf over head,
I read her a poem by Billy Collins.
Her nipple hardens between my fingers,
She tells me that she gets that one.
Moving down her thighs and on to
A short piece by Mary Oliver, her
Flesh ripples as she grows quiet in awe.
I play with her pubic hair and read
“Last Gods” by Galway Kennell.
When I finish she spreads her legs
And pulls me deep inside her.
My lips touch hers, delivering
A message without words.
