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Morning leaves me
by Laura DoomIt's not the sex.
There is no sex
[wishing will get me nowhere]
It's not the money.
There is no money
[my world does not revolve]
It's not the mystery.
There is no 'unknown'
[if there is, I've yet to find it]
It is oral, quasi-choral
and unspeakably amoral
[beneath these flimsy excuses
and translucent denials]
It is the kissing of words
a blending of tongues
the pulse of your lip
as I suck on your sadness
[I am oral, pseudo-floral]
cold as dawn dripping fire. 07/31/2014 Author's Note: volatility is all I'm good for
Posted on 07/31/2014
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 08/02/14 at 06:14 AM I love this. And I owe you an email... |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 08/02/14 at 09:20 PM Especially like the line, "It is the kissing of words" |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 08/08/14 at 11:17 PM And volatile you are...even torrid in your reverse passion here. Always something positive in the negatives. |
| Posted by Scott Utley on 08/13/14 at 06:37 AM Laura! Pow wow brilliant crisper than a New England winter's night and as perfect a write as is possible. Oh but it does get my carnal blood boiling,these words of words here. I would I were a fly.... |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/14/14 at 02:31 PM Loved the "kissing" stanza and that last killer line. |
| Posted by Paul Lastovica on 08/16/14 at 05:11 PM even words desire a touch. |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 12/29/14 at 07:43 AM love the image of dawn dripping fire, that got me...especially as the poem unfolds in a different voice...we should all be so lucky to have at least that volatility--language--especially after sex, money, and desire have been removed from the equation. The Art of Starting a Fight might be your forte. |
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