Tonight is a Blank Page

Lin Ross
Lin Ross
Nov 3 · 2 min read

Tonight, inside my schizophrenic shyness, I begin to write

my story, etched upon your flesh as my pen quivers in its wet

ink, and I use my wildest imagination.

In this, my latest dream, I imagine I’ve become

a bashful bird-man; I am

a lone black crow, soaring,

my hot beak

across your naked torso. It is a wide & barren field

of warm hot-chocolate, caramel & velvet where

golden-russet protuberances heave,

thrust & slowly greet the moist

crease of these lips.

Do you feel slight puffs of wind

when we kiss?

Are they soft wet pillows or

more like kisses from

a sun-lit sentinel, watching

my gliding wayward lust?

As my bird’s eye view surveys this

sweeping land of you, I touch-down upon

a whole new kingdom

where flames ignite &

karma collides w/ a rush of sighs.

And I am soaring to

this drumming of our heartbeats;

& you & I are breathless

& embossed in

hot beads of sweat.

The peak of my beak

retreats, then pecks

thru grassy pleasure

trails thru stones,

thru pricks,

thru bush & fluids

until, I become

a vulnerable

ventriloquist

throwing chirps & curses, throwing

my most humid of voices

in a sly & manic language of

slurps, hisses, suckles &

the sweetest of

breathy passages

from the heights of

this night’s erotic poetry

we’ve yet to

write.

copyright © 2019 by L.M. Ross

Oft-published poet, novelist, freelance writer, longtime New Yorker, currently based in SC, proudly penning poetry & polishing prose with a profound purpose.

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