tagErotic Poetryafter abigail

after abigail


our work
on your latin grammar
is a failing echo
before the brisk pulsing
in my ears

my mistake
to tutor catholic girls
from catholic schools
in uniforms
of tartan sin

my tempting fear
to wonder
if i can make it through
the session
without combusting

the rainbow
of rust and red and gray
below the starched white
of your blouse
at least keeps me from watching
the downy thigh
pressed against mine

there’s the rub
you know I’m

i see it in the taunting
blueness of your eyes
in the reckless
pouting of your smile
and i feel it in
the heat of the hand
you keep posting
on my knee

you gaze and grin as I
boil and melt
you lean
against my shoulder
at the sexy pun
in Ovid’s poem
while torrents of blood
bruise my eyes
and lash
the ache that’s wedged
behind my jeans

and so you watch
and wait
for my convulsion

and there’s still
about an hour
left to go

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