Tuesday, September 12, 2006

the foot

his foot slid down, a sweet caress, a dalliers
small enticing ploy, and broke the folds and twists
that held him smiling to my bed

slid down until his toes touched the startled
stone, saying nothing to me, whispering nothing
in a gris-gris patter, and i can not breathe

slid down until i heard the gasps and hoots
of an audience, little sniggards from
the trade, the shops, the jolly-come-latelies

straining forward in velvet comfort, aroused
by their scent of titillation, aroused that i
would succumb, their private, their own,

their son

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