Morning swam up from the bottom of night seas
Burning clouds wound around dawn’s yawning arms
I stole a swift drink of coral bracelets
From grandmother’s jewelry box
–Robert Lee Haycock
What you say began as tentativeness was in fact my resolve to reject you.
Again I forgot to include labia-ache in my need equation.
I don’t know if it is better or worse than a hard-on,
but I know when I approach you with it you offer to walk me to my car.
It is not as direct as the press of clitoral expectation,
but then I’ve been conditioned to suppress my sexual complexities.
Labia-ache–the echo of deep need that men
don’t know how to meet, only flirt with,
bashful in the presence of their testosterone.
–Carolyn M Crane