i run lips
down between legs
as a poet
i’m better with my
than my ——
and i want
to make them
sing the new
modern love song
the orgasm
with the pulse breath arch back spasm the thigh contractions against
my ears the popping noise like when the first person i ever tasted
squeezed their dancer thighs so tight
lovers try to
touch back then time
to make a joke
roll to the side
accept arms legs entwined
but keep away from my ——
how long since sex sober
sans guilt
not since i loved the lover
who blushed when
she said ‘distance’


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