I know why Fenris ran the sky after such prey.
My lover’s lines are gilded in the light
And from the window, the warm rays caress
My hands grip his cream wrists and thighs squeeze tight
As firsts now gathered, my right as Mistress
Fill me twice within four days, and come quick
Your release my claim, your cock my possession
Fit where I ache and wetness makes me slick
Taken to satiate my obsession
You live to suffer & to offer joy
Vulnerable in every drop I drain.
Made for this, alluring man, my eager toy,
Who pleases the eye, & as much my brain
But in this golden hour I seek to share
Let the sun kiss also, where I find fair
On my return from Seattle, a poem for the way the light hit his hair and flowed over his cheekbones and shoulder. I don’t think it’s my best, but I like sonnets as a kind of flash fiction that forces you use an economy of words. Iambic Pentameter is a work in progress here.