the siren call of the housewife

Calypso calls me with her scent

wildly singing with the hint of vapor

rising out of our chimney as she sweeps

drifting me towards her awakening

lying on the counter like a piece of meat

chicken is what she offers on the menu

with the crisp twinge of honey and lemon dew

mixed with parmesan and oregano

and a dish she calls her sweet pie

then she snaps her fingers in anticipation

her siren for me to hurry my way

as i calmly oblige to make her feel subdued

and devour before i finish my dessert

making sure to wash my fingers clean

with the tenderness that only my tongue can provide

lustfully she watches from her perch on our table chair

her appreciation expressed in mine with one loud burp

to which she squeals in ecstasy

proud that her homer has seen his journey home


About Michael Medlen

My name is Michael and during my free time I avoid having a day job. Strangely enough, this gives me the freedom to run this blog. I write just about anything that can be considered art. I also occasionally post articles that may or may not be relevant to the theme of this site. You’ve been warned.
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