Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

my eyes look for god on the ceiling

chest pounding
black lace wet with sweat
in the middle of the bed

21 stories above
downtown cincinnati
astride a gnarled willing river

black and white polka dot dress
pulled up over my shaking thighs

panties torn
thrown to the floor

necklace broken
200 faceted crystals
a glistening roman empire
conquering the mattress

legs bent and open
forming the shape
of a welcoming bridge

over the glass wall view
of church steeples
rising from

and the northern liberties
he has taken with me

two tone
open toed heels
piercing into the whitest sheets

brunette silk strands
pulled from hair pins
splayed over
blood red pillows

he smiles
in his bedside chair
pouring two glasses of bourbon

cock swinging
above his cowboy boots
i have not yet been able to speak

lifting his fountain pen
he scratches a line
into a black leather book

it is then i know
he is the devil

my eyes look for god on the ceiling

certain this poetry
will fuck me to death

9 replies on “my eyes look for god on the ceiling”

Wicked. That one is one fire, left my heart racing with excitement, didn’t want it to end. It played out like a thumping James Bond theme. The Queen would most certainly be amused.

I love to make love but for me its’ been a long time. Too long. I like it gentle, slow. Getting rough is certainiy fun as the occasion heats up. Your poem breaks my heart as it sounds as if you lover was rough, too rough & that you did not enjoy the encounter. But then, perhaps that is what you wanted to convey. You sure did it.

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