Post Scriptum

I want to write
an erotic poem
in which raw words, unadorned,
become beautiful
where metaphors are unnecessary
and breasts, for instance,
do not become hills
nor a woman’s body a sultry landscape
nor intercourse ‘the most intimate embrace’.

It’s quite clear
this poem is written in the space
between exposure and concealment
between hypocrisy and true feeling.

Share this poem

view comments

Comments (1)


My son still uses Axe, but not like he did a few years ago (when I would sometimes have to open wiodnws and turn on fans when it was below freezing).After riding BART for 15 years I can’t stand any of that stuff. I fled the Treehouse in a hurry when a certain avian ancestor would start on the topic. No asthma, just sick to the stomach.

Leave a comment