by Jessica Holter
(07/26/06)

Geechie Woman

Being with him is
like slipping into a new satin dress
and walking into church
when you know you've been a saint all week
Nose high in the air, no despair
Comfortable in your decision to be there
Sliding across my naked flesh
like a satin sheet is his love
His breath on my face,
Freshness in the gettin' up morning
He tends to my garden with ease and conviction
His attention, my pleasure
Like Southern breakfast perfection
Like taking the bacon off just in time to toss the eggs
and stirring the grits onto a plate
So that in exactly 30 seconds they will cool and take shape
Like the butter on top of them melting into a pool
Running into tiny rivers that trail artistically onto the plate
Like steaming apples crystallizing on hot cakes...
He fits my body like a Southern meal
Prepared with two parts love
and two parts skill
He washes his hands before he sits down at my table
always giving thanks 'n' praise every place praises are due
But I can tell, while though I serve it well
I have prepared for him, all that I am able
A well traveled Southern Gentleman
with a palate for many flavors
I suspect there is something new he savors
Ive never been the type of woman
who would resort to drastic tactics to keep a lover
But lately my heart and my head are engaged in riot
and I just can not fight it,
This urge to invest red sauce in his diet to make him true
I feel like a Geechie woman gone mad
tell me ancestors
What should I do?

Boi Let Me Lick Your Pussy

If we are cursed
to Hell with me,
Boi, let me lick your pussy

Butterfly, open wide
Let your scent fill all of my
senses with promises
that only your
sweet black pussy
can make good on

I don't want a daddie,
boi, not tonight
Just let me lick your pussy

Let my tongue trail
the walls of your
upper
inner
thighs
receive me like the woman
you were born to be
not the man you want to be

Take off the strap
I want the sap
Girl, let me lick your pussy

Let your body heat call to me
open up your well
climb on my face
and
sit
a spell

Pretend you are me, if you must
trust me when I say
There is an art to being on top
and there's an art to getting fucked

No pillow princess, am I tonight, sweetie
Let me lick your pussy

Tear down your walls, baby
Those are lips, not balls
So, come on Boi
and kiss me

T. Calloway (Jessica Holter)
Excerpt from Verbal Penetration

Our permanent collection of erotic poetry