If Only

I am angry and sad today about the unfairness of life. I long for a life in which I could openly love a man without inevitably pushing him away or causing him to rampantly take advantage of me.

erotica poetica

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If only I had the power and poise of a ringmaster
I would create a circus to amuse you,
of daredevil stunts and exotic pleasures.
Already I have flipped and dove
like an acrobat
for you.
Flying into thin air
and falling into the net
of nothing.
I have performed for you
my titillating burlesque show.
I have given you too many sweets.
But I have not lead you
inside the lion’s den,
nor fed you to the hungry tigers.

You are a strange one, my love.
Not made of soft earth like me,
but of fire,
and the wind
that feeds it.

Your mother ran out of milk
while you were still suckling.
Lack became your preferred feast.
Now you crave the torment
of a dry breast,
a woman who gives nothing.

If only
I could give you that!
Maybe someday, someday
I will stop loving you

and seduce…

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Dating Advice

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Be just out of reach.

Be unavailable.

Be gone.

 

Don’t be yourself.

Be prettier than you are.

Be thinner than you are.

 

Don’t love.

Don’t show your love.

Don’t tell anyone you love them.

 

Don’t think about sex.

Don’t want sex.

Don’t ever have sex.

 

Simply follow this advice, ladies

(be an absence,

a falsehood,

a lack,

a void,

a loss)

and men

will marry you.

Like New

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Even though you have touched my body

again and again,

I am still like new today,

rising in the dawn of this morning

to breathe with desire

for your hands,

as though it were

the first time.

 

I am new

like America was,

inhabited for thousands of years,

and yet still waiting

in dappled sunlight,

coffers brimming with gold and chocolate,

to be discovered.

My Lover’s Eyes

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My lover’s eyes are stony,

impassive,

like the inscrutable eyes

of God

when we make love.

 

And I am a precious jewel,

shining radiantly

in the mirror of his gaze,

my skin creamy ivory,

my lips pink like rhodochrosite,

the hard rubies of my nipples gleaming,

waiting to be polished further

by his tongue.

 

We glow together.

 

Love is a diamond,

multifaceted and rare,

formed from the weight

of extraordinary pressure,

yet exquisite to behold

when all is said

and done.

Nature Falls In Love

Today I am sharing this poem again in celebration of Purim and Nowruz, two festivals of early spring renewal and revelry, that may share ancient roots

erotica poetica

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In Springtime,

all of nature

falls in love.

The air is wet

with arousal,

fragrant with pollen

and the scent

of raw need.

In springtime,

our bodies ache towards each other

like the First Man

and First Woman did,

the first time they made love,

when the heavens opened up

and the gods applauded like thunder

and a million flowers took latin names

and carved their shapes

out of the green pith

of possibility,

blossoming into a full rainbow

of lurid colors.

In springtime,

clouds cry their heavy tears

that seep into the land,

feeding plants, nourishing roots,

shaking off the sadness of death

that winter brings.

The Earth opens

like a mouth

to receive

the Sun’s kiss.

Love shines.

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You Smiled

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I saw you
and I felt your eyes
riveted upon me.
I could tell you
had secretly missed me.
I watched you happily luxuriate
within the embrace
of my studied inattention
as you went about your business.

Within the air
hung volumes of words
that lay unsaid
between us,
like clothes pinned on a line,
wet and immediate.

The surface of your skin,
tanned and hot,
beckoned my touch.
I know your mouth remembered my nipples
and the softness of my breast.

I felt your longing
and for a moment our eyes singed
on each other.
You smiled,
and I knew then
you still wanted me.

Nature Falls In Love

20140310-223149.jpg

In Springtime,

all of nature

falls in love.

 

The air is wet

with arousal,

fragrant with pollen

and the scent

of raw need.

 

In springtime,

our bodies ache towards each other

like the First Man

and First Woman did,

the first time they made love,

when the heavens opened up

and the gods applauded like thunder

and a million flowers took latin names

and carved their shapes

out of the green pith

of possibility,

blossoming into a full rainbow

of lurid colors.

 

In springtime,

clouds cry their heavy tears

that seep into the land,

feeding plants, nourishing roots,

shaking off the sadness of death

that winter brings.

 

The Earth opens

like a mouth

to receive

the Sun’s kiss.

 

Love shines.