Eroticasual Poems: Act Two

On Moderation

There is a calm in the belly of the night

When i finish reading erotic poems by a poet 

who knows how to end an erotic poem

(ends with a softness, stillness so complex 

it pricks you in the back of the head I ask 

breathless

Is that the end?

And with eyelashes fluttering sheets of paper, lips creasing supine, the poem’s coy response is

…. (yesss)

That’s what’s sexy

That’s when to end

After a coy response

But i don’t. I don’t 

I don’t because I usually go on

Blinking off

And on and off and on

And off

And on again

Too far.