1 Poem by
Tina Hess
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Mooring
I tell him,
we don't have
to drop anchor.
I just want
to fuck you once
in your sail-less boat
with its lone mast
erect
against the dirty-gray sky
and come
into the loud silence
of the thick fog
that carries
our sex-cries
within its walls,
resounding
our orgasms
as they ripple
into waves
through
our one body
and after
we finish,
lie panting,
sweaty
in the crisp air
while the boat
slows its rock
on the murky-green water.
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