Love Soup

 My mouth

 Meets your

 Mouth,

 Moves south,

 Missing nothing,

 Making mouth music,

 Moving you to

 Mutter, “Don’t

 Muff it, dear.” A-

 Mused, I

 Move closer to your

 Molten bowl,

 Meticulously molded,

 Muskily scented.

“My middle, please,” you

 Murmur.

“Mystery achievement

 Mustn’t be rushed,

 My sweet.” I

 Master urges to hurry,

 Meander, then

 Marry mouth to

 

 Mons, sip,

 Muse a

 Moment, then slurp.

“Memorable,” say I.

“Magnificent,” you reply.

 Movement quickens.

 Mutual meltdown,

 My goal, looms. I

 Match each twitch you

 Make with

 Mad twists of the tongue,

 Maddening you and

 Me, too. You muss

 My hair as I

 Moisten yours. You

 Moan, shriek, become

 Momentarily mute.

“Ma’am,” I

 Mumble, “have we

 Met?” Laughter

 Makes you quake, letting

 Me hope I’ve made

 

 Good.

 

Atlanta-Mobile

1991-2008

Nothing Like Jealousy

Nothing like jealousy

to put a cat in

motion.

 

As one, my three felines

crest my computer,

pulled

 

by

their knowledge of my

two-timing them with the

 

stray male who lives out back

but who always wants

in,

 

where

warmth lives. In my lap

settle Moxie, Basti, and Silvio.

 

And their waking stertor

stirs feelings that are

nothing

 

like jealousy.

 

9 February 2009

Poetry from the depths of time

Whiff of Sax

for Joe Jennings and Leroy Jenkins

 

It/smell

Its smell.

Hear it smell?

Smell it.

 

Can’t tell

(Can tell)

What’s that smell

You hear?

 

Nose-stuff?

No stuff

You know is

Heard here.

 

Viol smell?

Viol’s meld

With sax riff,

Whiff of

 

Sax sound.

Look ’round–

You, just you,

Smell it.

 

Gone now?

Gone. How

You smelt that

Sound you

Don’t know.

 

But you did.