Black Dog

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It’s the slow stroke of midnight at 4:00am,

The burn
. . . . . The plea
. . . . . . . . . . . . The need

The melding of our existence melting between my thighs.

It’s every note we’ve ever sung,
An octave lower.

Rhythm
Sound
Beat

Familiarly new,
This composition resonates against my skin
In pentatonic strokes,
Over and over…

And over…

It’s both gravelly earth and heavenly wings,
The breathy gasp of an azure tune
In the compliant roll and rock
Of dripping
Glossy
Wet
Twangy
Blue complaint.

It’s a relentless pounding,
A cherishing kiss,
A sweet, steady, slow, sexy,
Morning
Fuck.

Ah, ah . . . . . Ah, ah

Ah, ah . . . . . Ah, ah

Ah, ah . . . . . Ah, ah

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh….

0 thoughts on “Black Dog

  1. williamsjoel22

    …I don’t know but I’ve been told,
    Alison Krauss has a lot of soul,
    She gives me Fever… FEVER!…In the morning,
    fever all through the … OPPS, wrong song …LOL!!! 😛

    Reply

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