Fit (a poem)

Fit (a poem)

How should we tell our bodies
to fit:

Is this a day for unleashing muscled-up tongues
for riding moistened, curious lips into our waves and rapids

a night for wetted teeth
pressed into taut and quivering bellies

an hour of thumbs   encircling the  pasta like cavern of navels
or merely minutes with the tips of fingers   enticing the napes of necks

a memorial to wanting
rides our talking like unbridled
but, blanketed stallions

how should I touch you
with your heart beating so much like a song
with your blanket falling
so slowly from your sweat-sweetened shoulders

how should you touch me
when  I am already
so sadly known to beg for more

Jas. Mardis
(4wim)

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