“Moccasin Mockery”

Photo courtesy of Evangeline Vickery

“Moccasin Mockery”

Moccasin mockery,

Boylston debauchery.

Standing on disparate feet.

Strolling along,

humming a song,

a stranger, the first I should meet.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve no way of knowing.”

“Did you know, you have on two different shoes?”

“I sure didn’t notice.”

“You should channel your focus.”

“Thanks, next time I sure will.”

No longer a stranger,

I’m willing to wager,

as I continue humming a song.

Leaving one for the other

I’ll meet his twin brother.

And find a pair of shoes,

That will match this one.

• Inspired by E. Vickery photo

“Found and Lost, Lost and Found”

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“Twisted Sister” © C.P. Hickey 2018

 

“Found and Lost, Lost and Found”

 

A lyrical chimera,

resides upon a hill.

Try to get my verse on,

but she won’t stay still.

 

Evasive and pervasive,

this startling murmuration.

Eight muses felled at once,

the ninth became complacent.

 

Slippery, past recall.

She slowly dissipates.

The biggest pen-tease of all,

has me in figure eights.

 

Once I concede my role,

a synergy is found.

Swallowed pride, a heavy toll.

What once was lost, now found.

 

 

 

 

 

“A Long Musk”

“A Long Musk”

Let’s go down to that secret place.

That place where you can be who you want to be.

Who you are?

Where we can revel in the glory of attraction and anticipation.

Bated breath.

Sweat.

Chest to breast.

Bold biology.

Fulfillment.

Elbows, lips, pliable flesh.

Pink, purple, red, mocha.

Salt kisses, fingers submerged.

Dainty fingertips gliding along the periphery.

Sweat, warm wetness.

Pushing through.

Resistance.

Momentum.

Breathless butterflies.

Connected solely through electric fingertips.

Fingerprints intermingle, DNA altered.

Traveling towards the event horizon, no reset.

Skillful ravaging.

Contentment.

Certain.

Invasive intimacy.

Waves, waves, waves.

Eyes locked.

Final approach.

Hushed encouragements increase the urgency.

Swollen to a point of burst.

A civilization in its ascendency and decline, in one moment.

Palms slapping the top sheet.

Final advances assured.

Bucking.

Thrashing.

Grinding.

No stopping the launch sequence.

Liftoff.

Traveling up into and becoming one with the atmosphere.

Eventually escaping gravity, and floating.

Floating…floating.

A sweet reverie, wrapped in languid limbs and surrendered kisses.

An expanding universe that ends and begins in the loins of lovers searching for meaning.