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Ode to the Multiple Orgasm
Finally, in my 50s, you arrive,
as promised: the shudder and
the shudder and then the heave
and the pause – and again.
And then yes, impossible yes,
again. I am not swallowed.
I do not disappear. I appear
and reappear. I watch
my lover’s face, I close
and open my two eyes,
my four eyes. 
 
O loyal clitoris!
Together we bided our time –
man-like for decades: single
release of the municipal dam,
strictly on schedule.
Sometimes the body’s engineer 
cancelled even that one breach. 
But now, now the engineer 
has brought along colleagues, 
comrades, who come and go, 
tease each other, pull the lever 
over and over for fun, 
a drinking game, a torrent. 
O boulders in the body’s way.
O constriction.
I am the pounding –
the sluice gate and the surge.

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  • HOME
  • ISSUE 12
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submission Form
  • ABOUT
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS
  • SHOP