MI-LOU by Robert Beveridge


what enchantment there is

the first time a boy ripe
with teenage lust
smells the heady scent
of the woman above him
sex, sweat, pheromones,
better than any perfume

sex on his wedding night
his bride’s lips soft as honey,
moist against his shaft
her tongue against him
so firm he fills her mouth
in seconds, pulls her up,
kisses her forever

first touches his ripe young
secretary’s eager breasts
under her cream silk blouse
and her shudder of anticipation
as she lifts her brown skirt
crotchless panties soaked beneath

©2019 Robert Beveridge


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

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