You have hunkered down already
when I present myself,
down into a sort of half-womb
of cool porcelain and plumbing.
Breasts swaying, you hunch
to admit me behind your back.
Toetip, toetip, ankle, calf,
I tease the water's steaming heat,
and finally slump, groaning,
my legs around your hips.
My heels massage your crotch--
the water sloshes and splashes.
My penis quits its limp,
half-submerged bobbing to stand,
a great, pink lighthouse
above my rocky shores.
You do not heed its warning,
which makes you the skies; indeed,
man has always striven for the sky.
A storm is brewing.
by Jason Paul Fox
illusration and web page by JASON PAUL FOX
You MUST credit my authorship when reproducing this poem in any way!
(It's OK to give my poem to friends or people at school, if you credit me and don't make money off it)
2007 Jason Paul Fox