LadyHawk

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“Gluten Free Romance
or
Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder”
 
what drove me to him besides my car?
all those miles of ric-rack
while
sucking on wintergreen tic-tacs.
the Tequila went down easy
and so did my panties.
his closet was as big as my apartment.
his starched shirts stood at attention.
his obsession to detail screamed
run for your life little Bo Peep.
counting sheep was futile…
his breathing was cast iron.
I took a leave of absinthe
and tip toed down the cushy
carpeted stairs.
the high ceilings made me giddy,
the 3 car garage was also a nice touch,
really packed a punch on my “what if” list.
so much for reciting poetry
while eating salami and brie.
Photo & Poem by
LadyHawk 

“Barbed Wire Romance” by L. K. Thayer

barbed wire romance

sucked into chance

and all that is written on walls

as graffiti is sprayed

and the apple is bitten

let our love not fade

with the ashes

of burning Cinderellas

and lost slippers

sipping from big dippers

on the milky way

of what’s mine is yours

and the galaxy of

meteors and space between

our sentences, let

our pregnant pauses

birth new beginnings

from lust to trust

grounded into

submission

giving each other permission

to become

who we are

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish

© 2010

“Sundae” by L. K. Thayer

L. K. Thayer

Photo by Sandra Carlson

gasping, hot humid air
mind over matter heaves
when will the knock at the door
take my breath away?

I peek through the shutters
uttering a sigh of madness
holding onto my silk cocoon
fluttering hearts and palpitating
eyelashes
dance the tango
of twisted canals in hotel lobbies
and cat’s pajamas

the thunder in my thighs readies
for it’s occupant, turning the bed sheets
down a notch
my jeans slide off my hips in a tangled bunch
waiting for my alter ego
my bedroom street smarts kick in
with baited libido

I uncork my inner monologue and hallelujah chorus
waiting for the dark horse
my stud, my mount, to come hither
Frankincense & Myrrh billow in the shabby room
scaring up romance
and cutting strings attached

no mercy for the wicked wench
who wets her appetite for Crème Brulee
whip cream
and a cherry
on top

L. K. Thayer

All Rights Reserved

© 2009