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To be rubbed the wrong way brings out my claws,the dark side of my wildness. I prefer
to purr and kneed the breast like a kitten
or overfed bobcat, but I have tooth
and nail; I hiss and snarl. Ah! you rub me
the wrong way! Beneath my protests—I love
having dust and dander released, seeds and
scavengers shed from skin under surface
beauty. Sound is richer with bite added.
So yes, I rule and serve—S and M to
the max—but my favorite moments are
when you let go and ride on me naked
and free. You seep into me through our eyes
and touch and taste; our muscles inform each
other until we become a new beast
both tense and languid, ravenous and fed,
secure and free in danger and in lust.
No one can see us coming, no one can
predict our when, but pounce is guaranteed.
We pause, then pounce in new beats that bring
laughter and tears, that rip open the breasts
of those we meet. And they are quite willing.
They live for thrills, provide the laps. We curl,
double lapped and rub them the wrong way too.
What’s in a word that lives beyond carnal
dreams, that makes spirit and flesh one, that moves
the soul until earth—awakened—trembles?
This poem is a wild ride indeed. I love "Pounce is guaranteed"! This poem is very - alive! In the wildest way. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteI love the sinuous soft-footed way this rounds and joins the matter, alive and greeting and growling at every point of contact. Meeting the animal meets staying true to its terms, explaining less of it and having a good purr.
ReplyDeleteAn impressive sojourn into the wild union.
ReplyDeleteI love what you have done here, Susan - the wildness you have unleashed in this poem!
ReplyDeleteThe opening line set the pace for this well executed adventure to the wild side. A word to the wise be careful how you rub
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