I. When I Got Religion
She holds my full cockhead
joyful, in her eucharistic mouth,
And I am busy, enraptured
thinking about God.
Oh. My. God.
I struggle to bring my myself
back to the immense reality
of my sacramental arousal,
the beautiful young woman
on her knees, as if in prayer
sucking sucking sucking.
Spiritual Oneness does exist.
I saw It in her pubic folds
revealed, not at all concealed,
as I licked her to orgasm,
there remained a veil of Mystery.
Those same folds, now puffy
with pleasure she touches lightly,
lightly, lightly as I come
as I come, come, come
into her holy God-given mouth,
I hear the All-Compassionate One
laughing and laughing!
With semen on her face,
Kim smiles up at me,
wearing thick reading glasses
as if the literature of our erotic
love needs a sharp focal distance.
In fact, there exists no clever sequence
of humorous or romantic combinations,
neither words, phrases, nor paragraphs
with adequate warmth and sincerity
to describe our reality with precision,
not this love, not anyone’s love.
We know this, and try anyway.
On good days literature gets close
enough to make words wet
like ink on thick-textured paper.
Electronic, digital words seem pale,
tell only half the story, ghost-writing,
and we hear none of the music.
III. Jacking It for Jesus
I might also say:
Boinking for the Buddha, Muff-Diving for Muhammad,
Taking It In the Ass for Allah, Yanking Kosher for Yahweh.
In India, I don’t know which deities to worship,
so I spurt sacred cream at sunrise, for all of them.
After several million years of human fucking,
we might offer our gods praise most-passionate,
in those moments, those few seconds when
lovers cry, “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh My God!”
And the lovers really mean it.
Unintentionally giving praise where it is due,
due to the sincere nature of most orgasms,
fucking can often be as worthwhile as prayer.