Home
Orientation
PENthouse
Essays
Poetry
The Novel
Music Reviews
Untitled #16
last night my Queen lifted her lips like a kiss�
she looked into my eyes to insist how intense
the happiness I�ve made, she�s missed;
she gripped my face in her hands just to make me
understand if anyone was special, I was the man;
she knew not what land I came from; she knew
she could think of my touch during a long day and cum;
she would wiggle her feet under her seat;
she�d close her thighs together, tight, to feel her heart beat;
you think that�s serious; what about the sound of my voice
in her ear just to make her delirious;
at first, communication like cellular sex was a test;
now she rings me, quick, during afternoon traffic
just to hear me describe how I would lick her clit;
you damn straight!
she�d make dinner dates for moonlit nights,
naked in the kitchen with an apron, booted,
with five-inch spikes;
she got me taking my stamina to new heights;
session three�s beginning at 4 a.m. and I�m running to
the kitchen for the strawberries and cool whip lite;
I licked the entire bowl off her body;
it intensified in a hurry,
and after a moment I dived after the cherry;
her passion we discussed before we both bust wide �
she clinched me,
held tight and looked up with tears in her eyes;
she�s a Queen I said before;
she wondered why my predecessors were truly afraid to
have her really walk through the door first;
she started believing her strength to be a curse;
they talked of wanting a Black woman who was strong
and when they got it, they sang the same tired song;
she couldn�t believe
how it was so hard to expose her intense sexuality
and still be thought of as a lady;
she said she could find herself inside of me �
she closed her eyes and left for sleep;
her head on my chest, as we lay
myself, still wiping the tears from her face �
Copyright � 2001