FOOTJOB – Your soft feet and my monster / Gocho Versolari, poet

 

All afternoon
your bare feet forded the lake
until around three
that you decided to heat them
and dry them on my sex.
My monster drank the freshness of the lotuses,
the heart of the reed,
the juices of the earth. Your plants
they warmed up little by little
and they were no longer cold animals,
evening warriors.
Strange and wingless birds
they confronted softness and whiteness
with the grotesqueness of my monster.
You claimed my semen
on your instep right
and as I threw it
you bent to rub it
and to drink it
and the orgasm shook your belly
and your crazy eyes
they cracked the west wall.
Almost naked you and me,
we will carve the afternoon
to change it into a lighthouse.
When the night comes
I’ll take your head
I will look you in the eyes
and together we will decide
burst

 

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GOCHO VERSOLARI

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