by Jewel Harrison
(08/23/06)
"I've never,"
the words fell loose
from a tongue weighted in doubt.
He wasn't listening,
steel bands of his fingers
digging into my hair --
hard push of hands forcing me down
into a world flung wide and fading.
Wandering through the shadowy lands of Backseat and
finding Adonis, reclining,
hard column of cock arcing towards the flat sky
of his belly.
Feeling thick with fear,
with need, but not arousal --
Succumbing to the will
to take him in my mouth,
to bow to his not so gentle urgings,
the molten slide along my tongue,
the slow suckle of the soul,
biting fingers, my god, those fingers
forcing the flow of the world
to his rhythm,
God, man --
I,
his acolyte,
worshipping
no more, but clinging still,
as the liquid storm broke
spilling fresh, washing me clean --
and him, panting, pleasured.
Sinking back
the world rushes in,
a sweaty thigh against my cheek,
the taste of god in my mouth,
and I realize,
Worship is control,
Divinity dances on the tip of my tongue.
The Poet's Companion - by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux