At your apartment while you are out of town,
writing poems about your shoes.
Pasty-faced, fleshy girls
cruising in old purple Ford,
bumper sticker "Porn Star"
You, lying on your side.
I slide down the curve of hip into waist,
caught in your gravity well.
You stand before me, your naked body arching back,
hard and flashing in the moonlight,
a sword-blade I ache to grasp with both hands,
but that will turn dull in my embrace.
by Josh Gentry