FREE VERSE Poem: monet, by Anita Marie Julca

the brink of a nose, beckoning
fingers dampened with sweet vanilla extract
while the tongue regurgitates the bitter liqueur
venom of mama’s milk and cookies

the outreach of limbs, hankering tendons and all
this daddy’s girl of a claw machine, clambering for comfort
while the pupils of his eyes shrivel in withering sights
predator of papa’s unzipped mind

the grippling of pleasure receptors to that scarlett nectar
dimples rippling to orbs at the knees of euphoria
before her kiss takes your breath away for a second too long
cannibal of neon desire

the laying of your skin against mine, and
the shutting of those longing eyes, oh won’t you
let my fingers worm themselves into your soft ears, and you can
touch, and lust, and thrust, but never ever trust
this sleeptalk to leave you with
secrets that belong in daylight

your fingers peer into this peephole of a mouth
wander this pink welcome mat of soft and shallow buds, oh

please, won’t you do me a favor?

do not dare venture any farther into this tunnel
contorted and inflamed with antique imprints of screams
when your tracings slip from my gums
do not ask the secret to these sharp and jagged teeth

catch a whiff of decadence, carry no promise of spoonfuls

let my hands keep clean, reaching than clawing
for exhilaration be a craving, never a longing
set me free baby, won’t you promise me,
you’ll find another lady for this male fantasy.