Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Bow to no man’s will,
Igor’s bass voice said,
Reflecting deeply,
Smoking between breaths,
Puffing out smoke rings,
Savouring her breasts.
She lay on the bed,
Arms behind her head,
Her plump thighs spread wide,
Watching him with love,
Taking in his words.
Never understood
Why those victimized
Jews on the trench edge,
Peering into death,
Never fought for life,
They’d nothing to lose,
Those victimized Jews.
Igor inhaled smoke,
Studied her dark eyes,
Her unmoving lips,
The way her legs spread,
Her black pubic dream.
She allowed his words
Like wild hungry hounds
To invade her ears,
Wanting him to fuck,
To boil her juices,
To savour his sweat
Between her plump thighs.
Young cousins of mine
Perished in Auschwitz,
Igor related,
Running a finger
Between her soft breasts,
Exhaling grey smoke
Above the stale bed,
Watching young Clara
With her plump thighs spread.