Freshly cut against the blade,
smooth like shea butter,
she is a moroccan rose scented
resplendent cooch.
Warm dew drops
wandering along leafy grooves
creating currents down stream
at the mouth of a mighty Mississippi.
Simply sweetening
like mango for my sugar,
she has the juice
I wish to procure.
Her moisture gets heavy
as my tongue disks,
flooding over her walls
when I breach the levy.
-Jg