Frank Mitchell

Erotic sonnet

Spenserian: a-b-a-b-b-c-b-c-c-d-c-d-e-e

So much heat. Lines traced by oily fingers
That arch my body, making me beg. Water.
No. Spoken softly but the word lingers.
Held in place by hair ribbons grown tauter.

Didn’t know one pepper could get hotter
Than it’s initial bite. Her kisses burn.
Carress my skin. Find me again, in her.