Mind Caviar Poetry

Lori Williams believes poetry has saved her thousands of dollars in therapy fees over the years. She's a born and bred New Yorker, working as a legal assistant by day and chasing her muse by night. She's been writing since her early teens, is the mother of one teenaged boy and one loveable feline. Her work has been published online in The Melic Review, Neiderngasse, and Dakota House Journal, among others, and previously in Mind Caviar. In print Ms. Williams has published in an eclectic mix of literary paper goods, including journals, newsletters and homemade birthday cards. She is working on her first book, tentatively titled Woman on the Brink.

E-mail Lori Williams. Visit Lori Williams online. Visit Lori Williams' My Beautiful New York, a memorial site.

La Bacia

Mi amore,
your lips were meant to kiss
Plump twin tingles leaving
smoldering aches in their wake
Burn my skin with your mouth,
singe me

The wetness of my want
will puddle through our heat.
I hold my breasts up to you,
beacons for your wayward passion.
Come, kiss these shimmering globes
and they shall lead you home.

Mi amore,
if I should lay dying, your kiss 
would be my last request.
Your breath would bring roses to my cheeks
Would you kiss this poor, drained girl?

I color mine red, shiny and moist,
remembering the places they have known.

Mi amore,
I kissed your manhood with sucking motion,
tongue swirled until you were dizzy. You said
that was a kiss, creamy and hot down my throat.
La bacia, la bacia!

Tell me, if I spread my legs toward heaven,
will you kiss me on my way?
Soft and tender, pulling silk aside
to search, kiss my wonder
Small light licking kisses upon 
my panting joy.

Oh, mi amore! Do you know
how I lust for you?
Kiss me, please

Copyright © 2002 Lori Williams. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.

Cross-Dressing Lovers: A Sonnet

A sweet, sweat-soaked shirt, that once graced your form
is all that I have, is all that I own
of you, man who makes my netherparts warm
through words on a screen, and voice on a phone.

It came in the mail, per my odd request
I smelled you before I got it upstairs,
moist with your musk. I'd the urge to undress,
pack you my panties, my secrets I'd bare.

So I donned the shirt, and slithered them down,
slowly the damp, silky cloth hit the floor,
wrote on an envelope your name and town,
stuck undies in, you will love them for sure!

Now what's fair is fair, as the saying goes
since I wear your shirt, you'll have to wear those.

Copyright © 2002 Lori Williams. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.

He Makes Me Flood

He makes me flood.
Lace saturates
as fingers slip deftly under
elastic.He unfolds me.
Plays me like a harp,
knows each string to pluck
to make me sing like an angel.
He's a devil.

He makes me buck.
Mouth nips
shoulder, he tastes like
bittersweet chocolate
and sweet, bitter tears.
Stockings rip,
garter snaps,
breasts escape cups.
My throat moans his name.
My God!

He knows the secret.
Muscles clench
tight. Oh...yes!
Years of simmering
boiling cream drench us
in the waters of my soul.
He makes me whole.

Copyright © 2002 Lori Williams. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.

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