Upon her inner thighs I wrote out the crimes
I would have committed without being caught.
I wrote my sins on the skin of her belly,
My confession on the small of her back.
You may bend me but you won’t break me
you may beat me but you won’t defeat me
The ink will flow in word and rhyme
As I work my way toward her breasts
Avoiding your shallow morality
And making her writhe in the
Ecstasy of new understanding.
Kings Mountain, NC
September 30, 2005