Poetry Contest Entry 3
“Preoccupied”
As a boy playing on my father’s boat
I cursed like a sailor, but my mother
Never made me put soap in my mouth. I
Only felt burdened by furrowed brow and
clenched jaw—
Long past, but solidly in mind.
Now there is you, and I miss you when I shower.
The smell of the soap I use as an excuse to touch you
Envelopes me, reminds me, this basic solution
that touches my lips by accident as you were wont to do,
Of your hips, of your raised arm
Brushing wet wisps behind a shoulder
So your body could assimilate
To the occupation of my hands—still clutching,
Slippery, for as long as I could
Prolong my desires.
I taste the smell,
Solidly in mind, Slippery in hand,
Salty, bittersweet, unforgotten,
But is it unforsaken?
My taking of you, my desire of having you,
Not to own like something tucked into a pocket,
But of wanting you to come with me
Everywhere, always—
Was it true?
Nothing can make me mind my mouth,
Now that soap’s my spark,
Memory’s my flame,
Fire on my mind.
Crawdad Joke Soon 
awseome
I really really like this .. It is amazing
This poem is a wet dreams wet dream. No pun intended, in all seriousness . . .
Pardon my negligence of needed apostrophe
awh. 🙂 refresher course?
ill bring the place mat if you supply the soap.