- Erotic Poetry
- Tennis Balls
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Sunny, suburban cul-de-sac
Tennis balls on the ground
Dirty with weeks’ worth of filth
Hands came around her throat and tightened
Her heart caught somewhere in her stomach
Then slipped away to a place where it wouldn’t hurt anymore
Far, far away she heard the crack of leather on flesh
She felt nothing
A stifled sob through the choke hold
She made no noise
Then
Ownership
Deep enough to push bile into her mouth
A tear slid down someone’s face
Not her face
A hand
Not her hand
White-knuckled the window ledge
And just beyond the pane
Just beyond the pain
There were tennis balls on the ground
Covered in dirt and filth
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