prompt #13
The text of this prompt may be NSFW
Future Conditional
After the supper dishes, let us start
where we left off, my knees between your knees,
half in the window seat. O let me, please,
hands in your hair, drink in your mouth. Sweetheart,
your body is a text I need the art
to be constructed by. I halfway kneel
to your lap, propped up by your thighs, and feel
burning my hand, your privacy, your part
armour underwear. This time I’ll loose
each button from its hole; I’ll find the hook,
release promised abundance to this want,
while your hands, please, here and here, exigent
and certain, open this; it is, this book,
made for your hands to read, your mouth to use.
Saturday Morning
While you sleep off the brandy, little one,
my hands could find its way back to the place
it knows so well, now. Even with your face
turned away from me, sleeping in till noon,
you move right through me. After we were done
talking (thence the brandy) until four
AM, you, in the dark, played three songs for
me while I dozed- so tired I couldn’t come
when you’d tried for me. So you sat on the floor
with the guitar, beside me, troubadour,
and then, naked, you woke me to you, brought me
down with your mouth, brought it down and caught me
in the gray dawn, whose sunburst was your name
like brandy in my mouth as I came and came.
4. Clouds Thursday, sunny Friday, Saturday
wind, Sunday it’s raining, and you’re gone.
A new book, coffee, warm blueberry scones
to dip, reading, at “La Fourmi Ailée”
bookshop, in the lamplit salon de thé
behind the shelves. An afternoon alone:
tonight starts weeks. Une extrême attention
is the book’s title, is what I will pay
my way back to resume my single self
walking my work up daily hills down south.
Low-voiced lovers conspire over poached eggs.
I lick my crumbs, admire the rainbow shelf
of teapots, square oak tables with spooled legs
I’d lean across and, quickly, kiss your mouth.
- selected poems from Love, Death, And The Changing Of The Seasons, by Marilyn Hacker
FULL CREDIT TO sleepish FOR SUBMITTING THE LINK TO THIS PICTURE - Thankyou!
suggestion box thanks to everyone who has submitted ideas, we'll try to sort through them very shortly!
Future Conditional
After the supper dishes, let us start
where we left off, my knees between your knees,
half in the window seat. O let me, please,
hands in your hair, drink in your mouth. Sweetheart,
your body is a text I need the art
to be constructed by. I halfway kneel
to your lap, propped up by your thighs, and feel
burning my hand, your privacy, your part
armour underwear. This time I’ll loose
each button from its hole; I’ll find the hook,
release promised abundance to this want,
while your hands, please, here and here, exigent
and certain, open this; it is, this book,
made for your hands to read, your mouth to use.
Saturday Morning
While you sleep off the brandy, little one,
my hands could find its way back to the place
it knows so well, now. Even with your face
turned away from me, sleeping in till noon,
you move right through me. After we were done
talking (thence the brandy) until four
AM, you, in the dark, played three songs for
me while I dozed- so tired I couldn’t come
when you’d tried for me. So you sat on the floor
with the guitar, beside me, troubadour,
and then, naked, you woke me to you, brought me
down with your mouth, brought it down and caught me
in the gray dawn, whose sunburst was your name
like brandy in my mouth as I came and came.
4. Clouds Thursday, sunny Friday, Saturday
wind, Sunday it’s raining, and you’re gone.
A new book, coffee, warm blueberry scones
to dip, reading, at “La Fourmi Ailée”
bookshop, in the lamplit salon de thé
behind the shelves. An afternoon alone:
tonight starts weeks. Une extrême attention
is the book’s title, is what I will pay
my way back to resume my single self
walking my work up daily hills down south.
Low-voiced lovers conspire over poached eggs.
I lick my crumbs, admire the rainbow shelf
of teapots, square oak tables with spooled legs
I’d lean across and, quickly, kiss your mouth.
- selected poems from Love, Death, And The Changing Of The Seasons, by Marilyn Hacker
FULL CREDIT TO sleepish FOR SUBMITTING THE LINK TO THIS PICTURE - Thankyou!
suggestion box thanks to everyone who has submitted ideas, we'll try to sort through them very shortly!