- Sorry I’ve been gone so long. I’m backdating this post to last Sunday. That’s cheating, but I’d like to write one erotic poem every Sunday through the end of the year, starting February. I wrote an erotic haiku every day for a year, so I thought maybe one poem a week might be doable.
He found me
in the shower with a hand
over my pussy and an arm over
No, I said, not now.
Yes, he answered and turned me round.
He yanked my hair and said—this morning.
I said—I rinsed!
He said—I like the smell.
He lifted my pelvis.
No, I told him, I’m going to work!
He said—That’s the reason. He entered me
But no, I said, and no again!
And ‘no’ each time but then—
just like that he stopped and afterward
when I zipped my skirt
I swore I felt his thrusts. I swore
he tugged my ponytail
and pinched the nipples of my blouse.
The bus growled. The doors
exhaled at every stop. I
was turned at every block.
The elevator lifted
me and opened with a sigh. I bit
the pen and dropped it on the ground.
I stank with the wet
desire for his wetness.
The coffee spilled from the lip
of the mug, cream
stained my thigh. The bus ride home
almost made me cry. Do it,
I said when I opened the door.
No, he said, not now.
But I said—Yes, yes you will. I pushed him
to the floor. I said—
Dinner isn’t what I’m hungry for.