Sex and Beer Pong at the Shire

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When day warps into grey skies, sprinkled white


such devious deeds beckon the man –


they rip him away


from his bedside's console


to table, cup-covered.


The plural game plays on


while I, jealous fool


watch mute, but true


with my wandering deer eyes, famished black.


Staring censure into him,


with tentative hand


reaching into judgment’s prison.


The stiff wrist of my distant partner


swung through blur-eyed onlookers.


Deprived, I play in vain


until sheet-crumpling night


when his Shire-bed


opens to collect our fleshy secrets, to engulf:


competition, lies, us.


I sigh as sunrise drives the man


and with reluctant hand –


smoothed and tucked away


linens, secret-dewed in that sweet array.

Created: Apr 04, 2012

Tags: sheets, poetry and art, sexuality, poems, female sexuality, flesh, beer pong, love poems

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