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The Mystical Body: Pure Sex

I don't know if I have the courage anymore to write this kind of poetry. Poem written in early winter of '88. Injudiciously published in '91 or so. Then returned to in '01 or maybe '00. Took me that long to get what the poem is after.

The Mystical Body: Pure Sex

For two days counting
there was that chill running
and raising my scalp,
and I've learned enough
to know by now
that when it comes
it's time to watch out.

Then the third day came
then the third day's night
when she took me to
her place by the lake,
her place, her very own
where she upturns herself,
where she goes it alone.

Well, anyway,
we talked and told stories,
never trying to touch upon
the sadness in her voice,
the confusion coming from
a water girl's detail
of daylight worries.
Then she turned her neck to me
and I rubbed away
at the ache and pain,
and holding up her hair
her finger-thick
the heavy self-stuff
of her sun spun hair,
and baring the bending arc,
the river run,
her own neck's slender arch.

This is all it took.
No question but that
it's when I got caught,
right on that gravid girl's
lakeside spot.

Then the deep desire
to go the way down with her,
all the way down with her,
all the way down we go until
we raise her high, over.

Nov/12/2011, 9:31 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson

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