Fly Away Bird
By: Joana Dey
This poem first appeared in No Holds Barred #16 and is re-printed here with the permission of the publisher and author. No Holds Barred is still in print and available.
I watch people watching you, strut down the street,
twitching and flaunting that little round arse.
It drives me crazy, Ray; how you wiggle and squirm,
showing off to the world what's mine!
Your eyes burn a path straight through to my soul.
I don't dare glance your way; I know what I'll see:
green glitters half-mast under spiky sails,
and the tiny tip of a soft pink tongue,
barely hinting at what's to come.
You're slouched in that chair, ankles crossed,
hips yearning, pushing towards me, teasing, daring.
Every nerve in my body is screaming for me to:
take him, Bodie! and love him.
Love you, till you're boneless and pliable beneath me.
I'll mold you so well, to fit under my skin.
I'll stroke you and bury my life deep inside,
while my lips dance wild all around you.
I feel too much.
Oh stop. What's this--
frantically fluttering deep in my head?
The common-sense bird, his warning, to me:
No Bodie, wait!
Not in The Cow's own office!