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A Lesbian Love Poem With Apologies

How does a whole weekend with fantastic lesbians, great food, great song, huge smiles, and even a touch of poetry sound? Well I just had a weekend like that, AND it even included some roller coaster white water river rafting. Just a great, great weekend.

Picture of woman on rug by fire place

Lovely lady warms the fire
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This trip was organized by SheShe Travel, a west coast based lesbian travel group. Carmen and Annie are the creative directors, and what creativity that team has — everything to help us get acquainted and have fun. And we really did.

On Saturday night we had our talent show, and being the shy person that I am, I only read one poem that I have written, but it is a doozy. I read “Castanets”, and the reaction I got was a little too hot to print here. A poet never knows how her work will be heard, and it was just such a relief to have it truly heard.

Carmen had a most interesting reaction. She said it wasn’t what she expected from someone named “MaryAnn”, that she expected more daisies and rainbows, that hearing me read the poem was as surprising as hearing a cat bark. Well, “Castanets” is not about daisies and rainbows. I promised Carmen that, just for her, I would write a little lesbian love poem about daisies and rainbows. But that is not today.

Today I chose another topic from the weekend: s’mores! Now what could be less sexy than gooey s’mores around a campfire? We did, in fact, cook s’mores around our campfire that evening, and damn! they were good. So here is my poem in honor of s’mores:

guys can’t eat s’mores
they simply don’t
get it

the slow careful
toasting
of a squishy marshmallow
until it is
hot
flowing to your
smallest touch
but never burned
no, never ever
burned

then marrying the
white hot flow
of the marshmallow
with the bittersweet
essence of
divine ecstasy
with a textured
shell
that falls apart
in your hand

but the best part
the best part of all
is licking the fingertips
of the woman
beside you
her fingertips
her hands
her belly
her breast
or wherever else
those pesky graham grains
just might have
hidden

linger there for a while
make sure you’ve got
every one

then rinse
and begin again

I do love s’mores. You see, guys just don’t get it.

Now in Carmen and Annie’s defense, there was no orgy at our campfire. I just happened to be sitting next to a beautiful woman, and my fantasies got the better of me. But there is such potential when just you and your sweetie are sharing that marshmallow/chocolate/graham cracker ambrosia.

So, I apologize, Carmen. One day I will write a lovely little love poem about daisies and rainbows. Just not today.

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