There You Go, Sweetheart
Let's workshop this poem about a raw and tender moment shared between a young father and his infant.
There You Go, Sweetheart
It suckled his pinkie, raw—
white-hot intensity magnified
through eyes dead as a shark’s.
Facial sinews pulsating slurps
wet with unyielding demand,
tongue tempo unbroken even
by the girth of two more digits—
its greedy cheeks hollowed
deeper with every gummy tug
sealed in vampiric insanity.
So primal raged the vortex,
rising in pace and tenacity
to nostril-flaring throat game—
every frenzied cell coalescing
at the latch point, painful,
as if desperate to swallow life
itself. Gagging, but back at it—
how could the young father
not let his baby girl drain him,
every ounce he had to give?
Sick fuck. And ONCE AGAIN, HOW CAN IT BE POETRY IF IT DOESN'T RHYME. I can do better in an instant and even with the same trauma content.
His pinkie, rawly suckled,
Burned with white-hot might;
Eyes, like a shark's, unfazed,
Locked in a focused sight.
Facial cords tightly wound,
Pulsing, they made their stand;
Tongue's dance, unyielding, strong,
Welcoming more to its land.
Ravenous cheeks drew inward,
With each fervent, gummy pull;
A dance so singular, so wild,
In sealed insanity, full.
The vortex, so deeply primal,
Grew in its fierce spree;
Every cell of this new life
Yearned for its life's decree.
How could a father resist,
Seeing such fervent plea?
Not letting the infant take
Every last bit of he?