Charlotte's All Grown-up

He offers to light the filament
of my burnt out bulb.
How enlightening, I purr,
whiskey sour sweating on mahogany bar.

I long for another metaphor…

So he casts a different pick up line,
this filament spinning webs
pulsations moving me across vibrations
of taut silken threads.

Which brings me back to his fine
collarbone, jawline, forehead;
Back to my fingers entangled in his dreads;
Back to the whole of him ensnared in my thighs;
Oh my.
This is some terrific, radiant, (hardly) humble time.


(cc) Karen G. Johnston