For Pussy

Alina monkey climbs up the waterfall 

fully naked. 

She hoists herself over rocks draped  in moss 

with the agility of an animal in home terrain. 

Her ass glistens with speckles of water, 

iridescent and shining. 

Her back’s a long dock— sturdy. 

She belongs to this moment of crisp sky,

glassy stones,

and levitating dragonflies. 

She’s naturalized to the world around her. 

She stoops down to examine a red veiny leaf. 

She’s bent right over me,

and I cannot help but look up. 

Up into her. 

Her pussy is spread before me, 

opening up like the entrance to a tiny cave, 

this magical crevice that invites the outside in. 

This slit is so perfectly constructed for man, 

so elegantly designed for bearing life, 

so giving in the anatomy of pleasure; 

a beautiful, terrifying channel of dark waters and blood. 

Watching her bend before me, 

I wish to sprout a penis from my pelvis.

I want to enter that mysterious chasm,

feel the hot raw tension of muscle, 

the soft folds of tissue— 

to bathe in her innermost chamber. 

This isn’t a sexual baseless urge,

but a primal inclination mixed with a

human yearning for the utmost closest. 

To become part of the other. 

With a penis, I could enter her 

and we’d be one. 

We could be one. 

The reality: I place a hand on her warm back

& she turns toward me, showing me her red leaf.