- Erotic Poetry
- Athletic Discipline
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(Author's note: if you've never watched a gymnast on the rings, you don't know what you're missing!)
On the performance floor,
coquettish spandex starts a guessing game--
He wants me..he wants me not.
But I am blocked from your view
as your concentration narrows to
a single sweet spot.
In my dreams you are naked
sweat beads drip down your spine
marble hard muscles strain
at the confines of shining skin.
The wires vanish at vaulted ceilings,
you must be lifted to your place.
Trembling with exertion
you hold the required pose for seconds
stretching to eternity,
a pagan messiah on your
hidden iron cross.
In my dreams you hang there
silent and still,
a marvel of restraint
quaking under my touch.
The lash swings at your back,
makes you slave and master both.
Commentators wonder at your powers,
your discipline.
I am lost at the word,
dreams intrude into daytime
visions of hard muscled mastery
submitting to the training
that only I can give.
