The hair crashes and splashes against
Her shoulders -- their chocolate waves spread
On awkward shoulders.
She jounces and pops hair into a
Feathery fan -- then into a
Knot upon the fragile scalp.

Twisting, hopping and grinding hips
Pop hard in the new unripe
Peach delicacy -- the cleft cut crisply
Between flared pelvis.

Her breasts hop, not bounce --
They are the prologue to her body and
I am dazzled. They
Have a loft like steam.

Like drops of semen on sheets
As good as, just as unjust
The flair, the curve, the line is
Preposterous.

Formed like a girl
Built like a woman
Upon the great frame
Female -- feast your eyes.

What is herstory?
I want that budding breast in
My mouth. I need that Thigh
flesh bunched between my fingers
To squeeze. To smell, to lick, to bite.
I need to feel the bloom of petals under
My hand like sunstars -- that sticky
Hot mucous that burns fingers.