Mortality Poem by Hugh Cobb

Mortality
pumps through veins,
arteries, capillaries;
courses rhythmic:

engorgement, release
- the sex act
& what an act it sometimes is.

the 'little death' we seek,
release, fearing
that greater passage
from flesh to spirit:
(soaring free no limits
but consciousness...)

Fucking as metaphysics
or as metaphor for living

Our mortality seeks replication
with each beat of inner rhythm:
blood courses, pulses faster
seminal fluid gushes forth:

'Seeking like minded egg...'
: the intercourse personals
Hey it's only rock 'n roll to me...
Hot & heavy backseat bouncing
a redolence of sex
hangs in air
(What if mom smells it? She'll know...')

Perfect breasts:
a bouquet for eyes, touch & tongue;
moist, central heat holds & molds
itself to iron invader
defies mortality with each
thrust/ reception /counterthrust.

Passion's willing slaves indulge
after a few tokes,
time e x p a n d s
fills moments with
drawn out sensuality

Oh, yes!
Oh my God, yes
baby yes, yes, yes! !

In sweaty post-coital moments
pulse slows, respiration slows...
tender strokes, caresses
embracing mortality together,
nothing is lost:

the law of conservation of energy;
nothing is lost,
not in mating dance,
not in respiration
not in one cycle
of pulse & breath.
It's spaces between
that we call death.

(Copyright 3 May 2006)