Tour of Duty


Closer, lying prostate between
The metal spars was our bodies,
I was a woman, he was a sailor man,
Both stripped naked, on the Naval deck,
We were both serving God and country.

My dark hair and my face glowed,
In the flickering light of the lamp,
And a rope, with the sailor’s knot,
I was bound to the deck of his heart,
Naturally doing a tour of duty.

The ambient glow of the mist,
Made my skin appear pearly white,
Light milky as the color of snow,
Once when I was seen once as a child.

I was to be translucent, a web of lace,
Startling against my skin, his first mate
My lips were plump and a swollen tinge,
Of pink brought on by the passion of him.

His eyes that stared upward at me
They were dark pools, his black eyes,
Beautiful peering alarmingly wide,
As though in an excited frenzy.

I had admired him almost in a panic,
Wanting, despite the fact he so large,
That he now appeared quite calm,
And I in my wet and wanted state.

I might have curled myself acround him
Clawed my way, fought for breath,
It was smooth sailing again, the calm,
We looked as though we belonged.

To be human, more like we were a pair
Of fine kid gloves, disciplined, manly,
Ship shape and on the ready, oh God.

Only I loved his long thick rope, the fervor,
Which would bind us together, forever,
More than the cold, he made me quiver.

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