- Erotic Poetry
- Writers Block
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Nothing comes.
Nothing comes to spread the legs
of corseted words -
the laced and mismatched sounds of
what I think I think about.
I sit-
dry paper,
ready pen,
resisting the wet nothing.
But nothing comes....
Nothing comes first..... in my feet -
a honey-lava, bone-wild delivery that opens
and melts my calves, my thighs and then...
Nothing hovers-
patient, playful, blazing at the edge of my sex.
I still sit - frozen -
then squirm, wrestle, demand there be something...
Nothing laughs
arches me back and then Nothing comes..
comes all over me -
violates my every safety clause-
knocks my loquacious pussy into quivering
silence....
the pre-Eve language that only Nothing knows.
I manage, at last,
to convey in a
mud-fire wet devoted sigh -
that I will be Nothing's torn screen door-
Open to every way Nothing demands.
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