Surely, not like this, my mother
didnt. I have her hips and breasts,
lips and hands, yet beyond the physical,
I embrace a more primal, savage sense.
For in this shower, the smell of sex
rolls upward in the fog.
Sucking in this spicy scent,
I feel the roller coaster
deep in my stomach plunge
once more over the edge. I sigh
as soap skims thighs
weak and sticky. Oh, mother,
surely not like this.