Monday, 15 September 2008

Razor.

Covering her legs
with soap, she winks
giggling, she takes
razor to skin
and in sweeping
motions tears
the hair from
the root
and unearths
gold.

Later my lips
to her golden calve
I think about
the razor and
I quiver, wanting
it traced down my spine,
dragged across my teeth.

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