I MISTILY remember my very first
Plunge. Wrapped close in vodka’s sweet, warm blanket
I stumbled with my giggling Aphrodite.
She was, to me, the entirely beaut-
Iful, but so drunk was I, a moist fruit
With cored-nook, more than Heaven (even bru-
Ised) would have been. But her eager wet-
Ness, warmed with woman’s flush, began that night
Of febrile fumblings, synthetic starts and
The weakened will of Desire’s wanton wand.
At last, with volcanic idleness, Influ-
Enced by dawn’s golden glimmer, dormant yet
No longer. Life’s spray captured in her tight-
Ness. My vigorous fountain pooled then, in
Nature’s flawless chalice. Then sheath to bin.