grace mariner Poems
|122.||The Old Nurse||3/9/2016|
|123.||Lost In Eddie||5/6/2016|
|126.||To The Squeamish And The Prudish, With Love From The Boorish||5/10/2016|
|127.||Here, Or There||9/6/2016|
Comments about grace mariner
When I am old I plan to live in a trailer full of cats.
I'll talk cat talk and walk cat walk
and dream of birds and rats.
I'll eat cat tuna and meow at the moona
and I'll roll and stretch on the floor.
I'll bite at fleas and do as I please
and leave my scent by the door.
And when my nine lives have all been spent
and my sins I must confess,
I'll sharpen my claws on the Pearly Gate walls
and act like I couldn't care less.
I am your student. You are my teacher.
You see my flushed face as I masturbate for you under my desk.
You feel my heat. You smell my dark perfume.
I know it and I smile.
I am your most unworthy pupil.
A willful bitch that needs the whip.
You guide me, as Masters do with a strict hand and a skilled tongue.
And you smile.