smooth, like buttered corn
tracing each ripple
losing touch, gaining feelings
I curl the bow
leaving the top
down under to plunder
hood's winks smooth
out the curls
& a gentle pull
lifts each lip's furl
softly circling
finding warmth
& larger circles
yielding tiny gasps,
then sighs with a few
dips of sheer silk
I encircle
the slitted space
& linger, ensnared
by the lucious folds
as I shiver,
a deep breath
tucks me into the canyon
with vintage folds
worn by countless
excursions to its' depths
I am blessed
by the warmth, the glow
of all who find
touching is real,
tingling the very
roof of my mouth







15 old applause
