[AtLast]

River Rushing

(For Rebecca)

Brilliant as the poppies
you picked weekly for me,
our shadows reflect on the water.
My fingers colliding over flesh like stones
skipping intermittently, hesitant,
until finding a quenching river
after a parching drought.

On shore, my legs snuggle around
the strokes of your licking.
My senses rush like the water
erupting to a splintering fall.
Then, finding a compassionate pool
to float downstream within, content.
Steadily, I search your dammed passage.
Finally, your wetness allows me to slide gently,
freely into your core.

Finding a burgundy flume, honeycombed.
Glistening under my tongue next to the water.
Splashing in the water between motions,
the river pours over my eyes
making me feel like
I’m crying with the flood
running from you.
____________________

© 1976 M. Susan Gaye (My pen name of old)

I could not possibly be the butch I am without lesbian sensuality and its mix of the feminine and masculine within.