Thursday, March 17, 2011

POEM: "How You Make Love To Me"

How You Make Love To Me

Your beauty is but a mask
A tired dress upon the floor

dogs mount each other
with more urgent honesty
with fewer lies of passion

you pant before coming
your screaming orgasm

a windmill open to the winds
one higher tolerance for the pain
of the unwoken less fortunate

red arrows like snakes shooting
out of your dark closing eyes.

© 2011 Rob Schackne

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