Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009

Intimates

by Rob Christie

  Intimates
 
Tenderness, yes.
The cupped hand caress.
The fingertip of lightning's
Feathertip of distilled pleasure.
The moistened lips' engagement with another
To the inhaled fragrance of the flower
 
But in the dark, the hand that passes midnight
Plucks the flower to let
The bitter taste of sweat replace the honey sweetness
Where Cinderella's wicked sister
Who tried, but doesn't fit the slipper
Takes it roughly, in the kitchen
 

Added: 27.04.2009

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