Ways Of The Flesh

I’ll admit oft times
to thinking how many
ways can I spell out your flesh
in porn tracts
without my petticoats
turning red...
Remarks linger as
“Ride that lightning rod
until the thunder roars”,
or make me a Neruda whore
free me untill you
feel like you want to lick
a little pink juiced pulp
from the fruit of my plum and
allow my tongue to sketch
words round your aroused flesh
while my lusty lips lash
your raw nakedness
into submission.
And you’ll be my poppet
cause you know I won’t bend
but, I may pretend
that I am helpless
while the world spins
its halo of virtue back
to my reality...