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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