We all have some. The same clay, molded differently; cool fingers rolling, attaching, shaping.
This poem observes the "subversive subtle sameness / of genitalic contours."
O woman! O man! O lover!
The spectrum of sexuality is broad, flexible and begs you to differ; it promises intensity in time and space; passion; betrayal; and an almost narcotic lassitude.
Pleasure, Not the Goal
Pleasure is the goal yet pleasure is not the goal.
Hand squeezing thigh is pleasure. Hand squeezing thigh
is not the goal.Touch like knitted swaddling is warmy. Pleasure is not
the goal.Invention can be pleasure yet not the goal.
Slight levitations of sensation humming in dimensions
almost near, always desirable, not wholly attainable
are pleasure, yet pleasure is not the goal.Conclusions reached regarding subversive subtle sameness
of genitalic contours are grand yet not the goal.A cry from the shadowy imagined on your body may not
be pleasure; regardless, pleasure is not the goal.To join the infinite, pleasure? To revive the self, pleasure?
Ah, pleasure is the goal.
Sarah Sarai. First published in The Future Is Happy, BlazeVOX [books], available through Amazon, Small Press Distribution, Bluestockings (Lower East Side), Unnameable Books (Brooklyn), Open Books (Seattle). Please do buy my book. Thanks!