The Qualifier (Polyamory entry)
I had a heart, with a concave tunnel, thirsty for filling.
She was the one under limp down-light, holes in the tights
in practical places, open for the eye.
He was stroking her leg, lips swollen, as if bitten,
skin like cotton reed paper,
a large qualifier.
I wanted the safety of their narrow, peeking, crevices.
I pulled, south, my skirt, fluffed the long, ebony hair off my shoulders
and paraded towards them,
imagining tweaking her nipples until she wept.
It was not the first time I'd been wet for the sharer platter,
certainly not the last - it was an easy circuit
and a get in,
get out game.