Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

And While I'm Thinking About The 80s



Easily spooked, she thought she heard

A baby scream.  And since there wasn’t

A baby near, she thought that it must be

The ghost of a baby.


                             I’ll  bet it was cats.

Their voices when they’re looking for sex

Are ghastly.


                   There’s our tom cat now.

He’s sliding across  the pitch of a roof

Like a skiff enjoying enormous waves.


Early spring and the leaves are little.


I went down into the caves with her,

The water icy in spite of our wet suits,

Thinking about the hour I’d spent

With my tongue in her vulva.


                                                Mercy, mercy,

The screechy voices, the little leaves.


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