Gay Sex Versus the Insect Invasion
by John Grey


At the far end of the park,
beyond the bandstand,
we sat on damp grass
in the dark
to nibble on chips,
sip wine,
and listen to a female poet
describe her first time
having sex with another woman.

She read by flashlight,
line after line
of a scary but exciting encounter
while insect clouds
closed in on her audience.

Was it as good for her
as mosquito bites were bad for us,
I wondered.
When she found herself slapping
was she as soft and gentle
as we were murderous and hard.

By the end of the poem,
our limbs were bloody.
If hers were,
she didn't mention it.
Not even as a metaphor.

But then again
mosquito wasn't even
her second choice.

Copyright 2018. All rights reserved.

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