The Ecphorizer

Listen, if you still want me take me now. I've grown plainer with the years but wiser, down to bone. My body's simple, sensual, skilled, has no opinions. I don't need to be talked to, reassured, brought gifts.

My mind's sunk into cliches, silence, facts. It doesn't climb or delve or pry, but the body does. Better to love me now. Everything I say surprises me and I never say the same thing twice.

Except for breasts,
(Pillows for the avid climber,
steep and softly warm, eager
to my hungry chest)

Except for eyes
(low-banked embers down in deep)
Soft hips, too wide for her own taste,
not too wide for mine (Have I felt her hips?)

I have felt her lips, foretastes of honey;
I have felt her cinnamon mouth cooly burn away
my frontal lobes -
and her arms about me,
not hungry arms, but cruelly loose,
uncaring in charity, in uninterested caring.

Except for these and -
dresses, bell-like voice and
tresses,
corn silken western clouds of hair
in blinding singing light -

Except for these -
I don't really know she's not a boy.

And I want, I want, I want
to make her wet and hot, and hot
and prove she's not a boy,
oh not!
Not!
Not!