O r g a s m ! [poem]

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orgasm

What next?
There’s more to death
than sex.
{I bet you thought just then
“Why ‘death’ not ‘life’?”
But don’t you see?
You haven’t really met
until your lover, husband,
“partner”, wife and you
have merged as 1
and both of you
have been undone
and disappeared as 2}.
It’s not about:
“How can I masturbate
inside this hole or that
or clitorisly use a guy
as if he was a dildo”
(or vibrator toy, perhaps)?
For that would mean
no meeting had occurred
which, in any coupling,
would be most absurd!
Until you fail to see
the place where
you and he or she
begins or ends
you have not met.
That’s simpler
than it sounds:
Its subtlety
I hope you get.
For sex, if it’s not
mimicful of death
(and you don’t lose your
selfhood in the sea)
then you’ll be stuck with
just your usual boring
prattle-centred
egocentric
‘me’.

And so by all means
shoot your load or
squirt your lovejuice thing.
But if that bang is just
a casual cathartic fling
then you have lost the plot
and missed the essence of
the taste of death
which you
in all your twosome glory
could have got.

 

© Alan Morrison, 2015

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