Beautiful Erotic Poetry
"Portuguese Love Making, Translated," by M.K. Shakes
Keep
spelling out your poetry along
my skin with quick flicks of tongue,
perfectly trained from years' experience
of rolling Portuguese Rs.
Similes and metaphors spill
from my slightly parted lips,
dripping undefined vocals
like honey into your mouth.
I've no translator,
and am left to interpret by
your shaking forearms and
those valleys between each rib,
barely noticeable until a finger
is pressed there ever so slightly.
And while you write,
there are no waves crashing
no fireworks flying -
Just the sound of your hands
wandering through my hair,
and Rs rolled perfectly
along my skin.
Originally published February 2010