Sweet To Me
for S.B.
I could eat your pussy, Miss Bridgewater
I know it’s washed, I know it’s clean
I know it’s soaking in coconut water
I want its jelly lips, its layers
I want to lift them, count them
one by one, with lips, with tongue, with teeth
I want to bite you, make you mine
mine for gold and silver, diamonds, rubies
where your thighs meet and part
highway for my tongue to get up to the clouds
make thunder, make rain, make lightning flash,
crack a gray day clean in half
I want the fruit only Eden offers,
innocence offers, before the fall,
before they fall and I have to pick them up
all bruised up off the ground
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
11:59 p.m. 05/10/07
for S.B.
I could eat your pussy, Miss Bridgewater
I know it’s washed, I know it’s clean
I know it’s soaking in coconut water
I want its jelly lips, its layers
I want to lift them, count them
one by one, with lips, with tongue, with teeth
I want to bite you, make you mine
mine for gold and silver, diamonds, rubies
where your thighs meet and part
highway for my tongue to get up to the clouds
make thunder, make rain, make lightning flash,
crack a gray day clean in half
I want the fruit only Eden offers,
innocence offers, before the fall,
before they fall and I have to pick them up
all bruised up off the ground
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
11:59 p.m. 05/10/07
posted by Obie Quiet at 12:12 AM
2 Comments:
Obie that is so raunchy, but I like the comparison to coconuts. But still, and my name (red face). Overall it was a creative poem. I'm glad it's mines.
You bet it's yours! And the poet included, along with his pen. You may have as little or as much as you can take or stand or want.
I want to write more of you. I want to gobble you up with words as well as actually.
Last time I saw you, held you, I was so very moved. And how very brief it was but it lasted all night. It has lasted until now.
You are forever popping in and out of this poet's life and pen. I need a pen to put you in - one to keep you in like we keep our babies to keep them from harm.
Deepest affection, I suppose, is what I've felt for you from the outset, fellow poet.
I have a cassette from LRU with you reading on it - with Mick, remember? I must look that up, dust it off, shove it in and listen and reminisce.
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