"Male"
c.2000, Miriam M. Wynnthe vital part of him
breathes, lives
like a thunderous pet under the table
a whole under realm of dreams.
waking, sleeping,
he sucks in life to pour it out
rolling round and in and through
the lush carpet, the wet orchards,
pressing against bountiful mounds of flesh
glistening with excess.lips will seek him out, demanding
top and bottom
left and right.eager, they part to envelop all
that is a man,
that is a god.swelling, reaching, time fills him
with the airs of lust,
and each curve and hip and gentle arch
urges him, placates him,
whispers him toward more, more,
and he grows, reaches, aches tobe
more
take
more
want
morethrusting rudely into a hand of delicate fingers
he introduces himself brusquely, charmingly,
is assuaged, finds centuries of relief
in a hot wet mouth of opportunity
and he doesn't care, will never care
for anything less than this is nonsense
and anything more is only pointless.and if he could only feel like this
forever
he would be the god
she longs to be with
and he longs to be
the creator and the ruler
the one who made them both
her father, her brother, her son, her lover.all things are encased in the shield of skin
across his tender, burning head,
his inner eye, his glorious tip,
all history and all time and every story
ever told
and all things must find release,
must be believed
and cannot be until they meet the everlastingsecret sacred lips of she--
the womb that will nurture and protect
the world
that will sheathe and encourage him
that will squeeze and suckle him to life
and then to godhood--For in that is all the power of the world,
all things before, all things past.and he, buried deep and searching in mystery,
will be the wand that rules the world.