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Friction by Brian Henry



A night of jackhammer sex in the bathroom

Prefers his boys asleep in leather

When he comes a vein between the eyes

To weep for every pretense toward coupling

The last round of lovers left him raw

All the friction of a space so small

Dawn when it hits splits the sonnet in two






Her first orgasm seemed a miracle

to her and to the one bent at her crotch

but soon unveiled itself as obstacle

or hurdle: a force, of sorts, to circle and watch.

Like a wary climber, the lover

— the licker, lapper, sucker, fister —

crept to the spot, content to hover

before the big venture, then moved, then moved faster,

much to the lover’s — the licked, lapped,

sucked, fisted — pleasure, until the crossing

announced itself in vowels wrapped

soundly around her tongue.

               This overture, like any blessing

or blazon, has raised the temperature of her expectations

somewhere beyond reason and miracle’s manifestations.




Brian Henry and Nerve.com