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February 6, 2011

The Toast

The Toast  
Matthew Ivan Cherry 

You share your world
and I salute you 
with a toast
…and my dick. 

We drink
to Diana and her forest
sipping sweetness and tang.
We sup the yum of exchange
and reward ourselves with a pat
on the back.  We press 
our hips hungry
feasting on a breath,
hot and fiery,
like dragons…we move
rhythmically like caterpillars
inching our arches
up and down, head to tail
to head to tail…
‘til our heads
fill with blood 
pressured and engorged 
leaving us empty
and light.

You lie down 
tossing yourself like a sheet
rolling off and over.
Your foot dangles on the edge
of the bed at your ankle.
On your side the 
hills of your hip
down to the valley
where my fingerprints still
mark the pink terrain plundered.

You slumber seek…
so I sit
crouching like Cupid
shooting my blunt arrow
towards the small of your back.
With a bump it bounces
trailing pearly white
saliva-like strands
back to it’s source.   So sad
to be quivered after only once…
your body shivering 
to a finish.
You are self-absorbed 
with light coursing your veins
and drunk with numbed senses
turning you to spilled 

so a toast
again I say…a toast!
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