T.S. Eliot may not have wanted to eat a peach, but that's just more mermaids for me moanin each to each.

::::::::

Some things scare me so much to death, I cry.

Cunninlingus, for instance. I think: reef --

bright choral crevices, sure, but teeth,

mores eels! out of nowhere grab me. Why?

I read somewhere the fragrant clitoris

is solely devoted to pleasuring

(for that reason alone worth treasuring),

but what if she tastes like black licorice?

Dunno. Got over my fear of monsters

under the bed, who live there to nab you

and turn your bunsened mind into lab stew

or plop! a screaming pot of mad lobsters.

I'm willing to give snorkeling a go

harmonica glissando oh oh oh

######

*Poem inspired by a BBC piece that featured 100 vulvas in your face.

Authors Website: https://tantricdispositionmatrix.substack.com/

Authors Bio:

John Kendall Hawkins is an American ex-pat freelance journalist and poet currently residing in Oceania.