Wednesday, October 30, 2013

To His Departed


no great shakes in bed
but has a bright mind.


Sullied flesh fills the callused paws
the tom treasures his pussy with 
in all weather and in silent alleys
of musk poured forth in the ominous South.


His childhood grins back when he arrives, spent
with the agonies of desire,
driving with one hand finger-fucking her
before she moans; owls torch the night.

(30 October 2013)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander

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