You want and don’t want
me to kneel for you.
The floor is rough and unfinished,
like life.
I can take it, I say
(though not for how long)
I can take it on the chin, I grin,
and get low down.
Later you cup my bruised knees
in your hands, like egg cups.
Glistening, red,
and well-sucked, you fuck.
While I vibrate and pant,
hanging by a thread.
Originally published October 2010