You were right.
the winds came up
during the night.
The boat is leaving anyhow,
the car sits at the curve of the bow, me inside.
the current calmed and less abrupt.
I’m going now,
and stirring still so full
of your voluptuous surprise.
I want to write this check-list quick
of things that linger with me yet
before I might forget
(the brain plays tricks this way, I do regret.)
Your tongue: well, thank you, God, and good, good, good.
Some (sort of) spankings, well- timed: good
(I cannot force good things to rhyme.)
I hardly know your body/soul
so nothing’s personal.
And yet I do remember you completely
even though I’ve learned to not to care and not to think
and not to act and not to feel
(but wasn’t it romance?
– wasn’t it all
just about right?)
There’ll come a night, most likely soon
When I will start to feel us there
in that sweet tranquil room.
It’s nothing personal
and every thing
you tried on me.
(it’s fun to sin)
even if you’ve done it all before
(better and more).
What a fine sleep I had when you left.
waking in a state of one-ness
body and mind.
I’d like to call it happiness.
So thanks for that
and God bless.
(He brought the wind
and your caress.)
Whitney Gordon has degrees in both music and creative writing. This poem was written to celebrate the freedom to act on instinct in matters of taboo love.