Remember a pleasurable moment, she directs.
But,
I can’t.
I can’t because,
there were
too many times:
dull,
with brittle bone, with sinew
worn, face down.
There were
too many –
I let you.
Yes, I let you
since you didn’t want
anymore
and what will it take?
will it take
that i scrape out this ash
at the base
of my groin
for want?
There were
too many
here
as i toss defeated the last of
my once was desire
into your bitter fire
There were
too many
and
I can’t.
But
There were, too,
the times early
in the backseat of the two-door,
on the side of your block
where …we shouldn't
reaching for your sex
your pulse pressing back under my fingers’ light
curl wanting pushing forward onto
time
bodies folding too tight
on top of each other
back window all fog
my mouth at your feet
want
you mouth on my clit
want
losing direction
wanting
spilling,
up
filling
the air
with shared shudder
and elated,
gasping for the breath of the car door cracked
open emerging into the world again
giggles and heat and decadence
to face the cool fresh sidewalk world
gleaming.
There was, once
that too.
About the Author - Margo Schall: Margo is an educator, a lifelong student and cosmologist, a poet & bookmaker, and a queer lover in it all. Margo believes in erotics as our lifepower and our juice for justice that’s not dry. She believes in words as a way to reach, to long, to try.
Photo Credit: Marcelo Chagas
