My tongue surrounds
The small, flexible cherry stem,
Bending it against its will
In a futile attempt
To pull it into a loop.
Once, twice, a dozen times
Stem and tongue entwine
In this dance of determination.
The once-firm pedicle
Turns pulpy
From my perseverance.
Small strips peel off
And stick between my teeth,
But still the tiny stem
Twists stubbornly away.
Just as I’m about to surrender
And count myself among
The unskilled,
The stem surrenders,
Slipping almost effortlessly
Into a loop. I pull the knot
Tighter between teeth and tongue.
Only one question:
Why has such
A petty accomplishment
Earned looks of admiration
From so many male acquaintances?
Dirty
Published on March 19, 2016 06:40