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John Monagle

Cecilia’s Skin

Let me remove the soft blouse cloud
covering you,
expose firm nippled hills.
Let my fingers slowly glide
all your smooth earth,
soft covered torso and breast.

Let my kisses on your skin
be drops of devotion,
gentle as mist.

slow erupting elation in your groan.

Let me remove your denim blue,
my tongue slide down below,
raising a delight
to grip your breath.

Let your hands clutch sheets,
then my hair
before stroking my shoulders,
as you ascend to excited
and pleasured moans
rising from the gush
starting where my tongue
licks your clitoris.

I want my eyes to worship
the beauty within yours
while you are in your rapture,

my love enveloping you and within.

Let us consume each other,
and become embers in the afterwards.

Please let my soul submerge into your skin.
I want to drown in this ocean of sin.
I want to hear the loud panting
you experience in the peak of pleasure.

Bikini Islands

(May Day-Judith W. Steinbergh: A Bear Story-Anne Cameron)

Some young women walk
or sunbathe on the beach
others are in the water
where they swim or play.
They wear bikini islands,
tops and bottoms.
I sit and observe
on this very hot day

I want to go to a beach
in an isolated cove,
meet a statuesque venus
walking towards me
lightly on the sand.

Dark eyes gaze at me
in invitation, she quietly removes
her bikini islands. My fingers
softly slide on her olive shade skin,
her side, her hips,
from the middle over her navel
to her chest and firm breast.

Dropping the anchor
of swimming trunks
I float into her.
No need to exchange names,
only lips pressing,
tongue upon tongue,
we drop our knees onto the sand.

On my back, I wear this venus
who disposed her bikini islands.
Oblivious to grains under my back,
I push myself into her, caressing
her back, then her breasts. She rides
the unity, torso back and forth,
her eyes to the sky, then to mine,
until she stops as I erupt, squeezing me
between her knees. We croon
euphoria skyward in gratitude
before she collapses to the sand
on my left and lays beside me.
Lapping water tentatively approaches.


John Monagle is retired from working at The Library of Congress. He graduated from Vermont College of Fine Arts with a MFA in creative writing, specializing in poetry. He has had numerous poems published in a variety of journals, most recently in Voices, High Plains Register, and Coffin Bell.

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