When she wants it
mad lust soaks her eyes. She twists
free, loose-tongued, bounces at the stud,
thrusts out her backside, spreads her musk.
Her sex unclenches like a swollen fist.
When she doesn’t
her whole body snarls, tense and stiff,
hitched-up lips and eyes hard as frost.
Her growl scrapes her throat, a rusty
saw. Her Piss off, if you want to live
so clear. No man would dare misunderstand.
I regret my fangless mouth, my clawless hands.
All Rights. Kathrin Michaelis.
