ways in which I feel cavernous
you insist I can’t crush with the weight
of my worship, but that rocket-smooth thrust:
just moves, babe. at the beginning, lips
get stuck. no porno shove or spit
can make it like the movies.
watching you strike me till I wither:
girl with panty pink suspenders,
penis like a raisin, a neapolitan
mastiff, smashed bowler hat. in
winter fishnets, expectant of
unbuttoned skins, out slips a specimen:
“splot!” the sound, I think, of
boundaries loping away.
or was “matronly” the way you put it?
now I am wide as the mind of a
traveler, a child. suns could set
on these ass cheeks. my table is laden
with the fare of our ancestors, so
stick it in me, babe.
I swear I could smash with the love
of my mouth. instead, cowering by
tubs, by open ovens, I ask what
about chewing up a cupcake do you not
understand? winter went, and came, and
went, and still! still no tulips.