No sharp edges (2012-13)

 

(Our poet once asked me to talk dirty to her. I don’t talk dirty. But I can write dirty. Unfortunately, up to that point, my erotica was very blatant. Most erotica is either too blatant – basically porn – or too subtle. My blatant stuff was adequate for the mafia don’s widow. But dealing with a poet of such great talent, I didn’t like being blatant, and yet I wanted to make the point. So, I wrote a series of poems – inspired by our poet without being directed at her. Some of the early pieces were silly, but over time, they grew more crafted. I posted only a few of them in about 2017, but hardly all of them. Some of these work better than others, but all are designed to be sophisticated enough for our poet, and perhaps meet her request for talking dirty and yet still be literary – April 2024).

 

There are no sharp edges here

Only the soft moist pillows

That take me in

And swallow me whole,

Warmth against my heat,

Receiving me,

And this one hard edge I bring,

Soft rubbing hard,

The determined drip of time

Wearing away my stiff touch

And my desperate need,

A heated exchange,

A snake oil cure

For the ache I feel,

Rubbing me until

I feel no more pain.

There are no soft edges here,

Yet in her soft embrace

She wears me down,

One slow stroke

After another,

Growing more rapid

More intense,

Her silky interior

Yielding to my stiff kiss

Until she wins,

Her supple touch

Defeating me completely.

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