We read each other by the light of sex.
Scarves, collars, make-up hide a bite from sex.
Elvis was only shown from the waist up.
Censors feared his hips would incite sex.
Girls agree to people and acts they don’t
want, not to seem uptight about sex.
Allen Grossman’s right — there’s no good word for
penis. Not dick, cock, prick, wand, knight of sex.
Let’s debate about geraniums. Dispute
the shapes of clouds. Not fight about sex.
Long-marrieds try vacations, candles, porn,
desperate to break from polite sex.
Me, too, countless women post. So many
predators and violations blight sex.
Once my husband and I were illegal.
Love trumped by his brown skin, my white. Sex
sells, thrills, bonds, can kill. So many flavors!
Tender sex. Hot sex. Role-play sex. Slight sex.
Most religions cover up women. Paint
men powerless before the might of sex.
How much pain will you take to get pleasure?
Tomorrow, guilt and remorse. Tonight, sex.
The drive toward sex. The shame of sex. The laws,
the lies, the chemical delight of sex.
Stop the fake nakedness, Alison.
What do you hide when you write about sex?