deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fruit Bowl

There is no still life
intention:
But if I could,
an orange…

Placed, right
above
(navel)
juice dripping
down stomach;
need
for breakfast
beverage
arising.  

Mouth, hot/wet,
scent of citrus
filling space
between
climax
higher…higher
each movement; hands
grabbing bed sheets,
hair.

Thighs quivering,
fingers tickling
bridge
behind
balls;
mouth
moving faster
palm pressing up
forced release.

Spill into mouth,
down throat
(swallow)
tasting Florida’s best.
Written by BlueDogmaPoet
Published
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