Purple [Poem] by Robert Beveridge

71iztedr8tl-_uy500_

Purple panties peek
from beneath your grey
nightshirt, cuddle
the close-trimmed
bulge of mons, hint
at the shape of lips

what desire, what glory
to French-kiss you
peel them off
and slide into you
with one easy stroke
wrap your hard calves
around my hips
and stand, your back
against the wall
and thrust into you
slow, deep, and forceful
until I empty myself
into you, cry ecstasy
against your lips,

collapse onto the couch
and repay you
with a different French-kiss
until you, too, are rocked
with ecstatic spasms.


Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Chiron Review, Riverrun, and Third Wednesday, among others.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s