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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. |
