Monday, December 27, 2010

Ice Hot

craving missing winter snow, i
crawl, burning palms and
naked legs on frozen backyard ground.
pressing breasts against the earth, i
lick, seeking vagrant fallen flakes,
teasing them from sleeping mounds
the way i tease arousal from your cock.
you melt, you burn, as
laughing off mere logic's chains i
water you from passion's well
until you blaze with flames.

Written for the sadist, and published with his permission as follows: "You may post it. If you mention that I suggested a change, make sure you add that I rarely make such suggestions, out of concern for polluting the purity of your work." He did suggest a one-word change, which I immediately saw was perfect. It is true that he rarely proposes such edits. I wish he felt freer to do so more often. His mind is sharp, his ear sensitive, and his command of words as strong as is his command of me.

I won't tell you which word he suggested, for it fits the rest of the poem as well as if I had come up with it myself. A good editor knows how to speak in the writer's own voice. Daddy has done more than that. He has helped me find my voice and, indeed, myself.


KellyRed said...

"i water you from passions well until you blaze with flames"

oatmeal girl, you are a delight.

Paul said...

OG, your words flow like blood through my arteries refreshing every part.
May the New Year bring you all that you need.
Love and warm hugs,