Poetica 16

You better be home before dusk.

I sleep early when wet.

Poetica 15

I see you and my hand reaches out to grab you

I catch a whiff of your body as my fingers trace your spine.

I can’t wait for us to get home so I can taste you on my fingers.

I can’t wait to spread you open and take in the view.

You will pull me in so deep, I might forget what I came to do.

Before I lay you down, I need to unlock more chapters.

My bookmark slides in and I shelve my new book.

Poetica 14

I want to be the electric pulse that feeds your thoughts.
This way when they become words you would speak of me.

I want to be part of your actions every time I fire shots.
This way you can do me like a habit with which I agree.

I want to be a character in your life story, no more casting lots.
This way we will be coming and going as our neighbours spill the tea.

I want to be your destiny, you were lead here by the dots.
I pretend to eat you but I’m here to serve you on bended knee.

Poetica 13

It’s misty, my eyes are not teary, just signs of rain.
I’m scorched and hard, burning with desire to be your earth.
You’re feisty, your eyes are fiery, justify the pain.
No longer a nesting bird, I’m flowing to your hearth.
We’re misty, we get all “teary”, our garments are slain.
We’re in the yard, I’m speaking my worth.

Poetica 12

One hand meets another and together they meet the bedsheets.
One tongue meets another and wrestle to the pillow.
One move finds another and the rhythm rocks the bed.
One wave meets the other and we both drown.

Poetica 11

I want you to follow my letters.
See how I dot you eyes and cross your teats.
I want you to follow my words.
Feel my tongue spell on your tummy.
I want you to follow my phrases.
The short and the freaky of them between your legs.
I want you to follow my story.
The one I write and spill ink for.
You want me to know just one thing.

“Stop your damn chattering and get inside me!!!”

Poetica 10

Thirst, eyes flash, flushed
On the way home, cops stopped us
Home, doors bang, us too

Poetica 9

You dream of quickies but always ask me to take it slow.
In reality I know you don’t mean the motion but the flow.

Poetica 8

Last night you called to make an appointment.
Said you not only needed service but you’d also misplaced your dipstick.
The oil leaks were lubricating but not welcome.
You said it was like you were turned on and left running.
Now almost knocked out by the sheer will to want me to step on it,
You complained of how your signals won’t stop flashing.
I promised to check under the hood.
A slight chuckle, one word, “Good.”
***
I see you at the gate and wring my hands in anticipation.
It is not every day someone needs a new mechanic.

Poetica 7

Remember that night, when we learnt the words to your favourite song?
Later on we learnt your favourite cuss and church words.
And I soon learnt my favourite parts…on you.
Well, recently my biology is reminding me of my favourite tongue twisting.
The physics responds at that 90 degree of salutations.
And the chemistry is hot, sweaty, sleeplessness.
Remember that night? 69 hours ago?