Sarah Everson

A Sailor's Hands And Me - Poem by Sarah Everson

He likes to be behind me,
Holding loosely to my upper breast,
I always sleep with right side down,
His other hand requires extra warmth
Well, so he said, and it is in my vee,
At times I feel his pulse, or is it mine?
He likes me nude just to be close,
Avoid those artificial 'rags' he says,
And so we stay all night, so tight
Until the hour before dawn, it's when
The night is at its darkest and I come;
Back from a god-created sleep,
And spent, a shudder titillates
A sailor's calloused hands and me.

Comments about A Sailor's Hands And Me by Sarah Everson

  • (9/3/2009 3:47:00 AM)

    Hello (lucky) sailor! (Report)Reply

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  • (3/11/2009 6:31:00 PM)

    I came upon these steamy lines
    while plucking scabs from aging pines.
    That's when my mind is at its best
    as I have previously confessed,
    may I, in friendship and concern
    address the issue: should you burn
    from heated air beneath your seat
    I would advise you not to eat
    broad beans and garlic late at night
    lest methane sewer gas alight
    it is what you perceive as fire
    for me, my puter needs no wire.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 24, 2009

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