To spread my seed into a woman
is like being buried in satin cloth.
I like to feel her breasts under a soft sweater,
smell that indelible fragrance
which seems to mean: a loving woman.
And then to feel her lips,
her biting at my neck,
the fine strands of her hair
against my eyelashes...
I want to lean into her, warm and open,
and see the sparkle of her eyes
in understanding.
She whispers something -- anything --
her voice is a hush;
it's a throaty quality I long to explore...
Then a moment like no other:
a warm, narcotic sea.
I cannot hold back;
but I do return, in memory,
often and again.
