JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Are you there, dear heart?

hand in hand, running

to fall softly again

hidden by lust in tall grasses

 

Our special place

where the paparazzi can’t reach us

where the zoologists, botanists,

entomologists, etymologists

mouths full of terminology

word plays on fornication

 

In vain they lecture

in halls of academia

about fruit flies crossbreeding

cats in estrus

dogs mating

elephants copulating

 

From the sidelines

come screams of protest

harassment, rape, women’s rights

see how those judges and tribunals

lick their lips

pronouncing abuse, sodomy

 

Dictionaries of euphemisms

without a single fuck

to make them understandable

to horny students of slang

 

Come dear heart

here in our very own place

hidden in swaying grasses

let’s make love

gently, passionately

 

Before it goes completely

out of fashion