Poem: Pleasure, Not the Goal. My 3,000 Loving Arms are out and loving you.

For national Coming Out Day, a quick word on genitalia.

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!