Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

lysistrata

my unrelenting hands
would drag you to athens
to deny you
the sight of the acropolis

i would lash you
to the most spartan of chairs
naked
in a fire lit room
and churn butter
in a low cut dress
sweaty and writhing
in front of you

i would withhold apple pie fresh from the oven

i would stop singing as you entered the room

if i saw you on the other side of the street
i would smile and tell you
i love you
moving soundless lips
die inside
and keep walking

if i am to have no peace
you get no sugar on your spoon

6 replies on “lysistrata”

There’s no going back after drinks with me…drinks are never as fun again, until they’re with me. This is not hubris, but experience speaking. You have become a reason to write.

well all right then! you hammered that ending, chile!

and this –> “and churn butter
in a low cut dress
sweaty and writhing
in front of you”

got me & Shug fanning our skirts. I love you, girl!

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