From the Mouths of Prudes

Erotic language is difficult in the mouths of the untried.
We need to sound out even the gentlest of demands
In front of tea kettles slowly coming to a boil.
I want you to put my fingers in your mouth
Mumbling to ourselves over needlepoint stitches
Forcing words through propriety’s vocal sieves
We must rehearse these unfamiliar lines.
Tongue. Lick. Brea-sts.
No good to try them in bed, in the safety of night
We have to push out these tricky words in the day
So that, when required, we can casually say
I want you naked and…writing? Writhing!
As though such thoughts required no prerequisite silencing
Of the dowdy, scolding church women
And we simply touched some inner molten core
Inherent to all lusty women.