Forecast

This sonnet, from my 100-sonnets-in-100-days project from last year, is a softcore erotic poem about a girl. Cause, like… have you seen girls? I’m just more gay than I can handle, some days.

Forecast

It feels explosive laying next to you -
a current arcs between your moving lips.
Between my own I trap your fingertips,
and hold my breath, the dark electron blue.

Your tongue in tatters, tell me something true:
in rhythm with our four rotating hips
I kiss your heart and taste each beat it skips.
This tune we’re playing feels like something new.

Your body arches, taut like power lines,
the wind runs high and hot before the storm,
the shadows underneath your skin are warm,
enfolding me like tentacles and vines.
Tornado chaser in a different form,
I catalogue your cries like weather signs.

“Maman Brigitte” - early Photoshop work, me, 2009