her way…
Had she her way,
she would lick the lengths of love with ardent suck.
She would lie, silken breasts spilling to the side
reaching back
and pull him down on her
Hard.
Arching, lifting her ass so he could spread her fuck-hungry folds with heated, throbbing shaft.
She would let him pound her.
Each cry a soft, urgent
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
This she would do (and more), only if she had her way.
– Lola Moi –
gloire de dijon…
When she rises in the morning
I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her
Glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow
Golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.
She drips herself with water, and her shoulders
Glisten as silver, they crumple up
Like wet and falling roses, and I listen
For the sluicing of their rain-dishevelled petals.
In the window full of sunlight
Concentrates her golden shadow
Fold on fold, until it glows as
Mellow as the glory roses.
– D.H. Lawrence –
early bird…
your pleasure is all mine…
spread for you…
Take all the time you need…
two to tango…
remembering you…
Remembering you…
The fireflies of this marsh
seem like sparks
that rise
from my body’s longing.
– Izumi Shikibu –
(translated by Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani)
