Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Pets 1

My tomcat lover with his feral need
opens his paw to me, his eyes glazed
with desire, lips parted beseechingly.

I'm dry and furry as pot-pourri and
knock down his insistent charms with
a swipe. So he holds my hands and

imagines our lovemaking, with a closed
concentration, his hand moving faster
and faster in its steady rhythm. He

bites his lip; he swallows my lips; he
swallows my hands all over his body
exposed to me in its cinnamon litheness.

And I urge him on to his release
as tensed as his beating heart.

- Dedicated to Marge Piercy

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