Busta Rhyme, Bitches

Dancer

in the shape of a vowel

shakes her ass hip to hip

Twist of the tongue

slip of the lip

She’ll date you

hate you

lure you into a story

where there is none

Dazzle your eyes

beneath

erotic

rhotic

or the roll of it

She goes stag with the frags

hand-in-hand

on the crest of nothing doing

She laughs

and slings her head back

as the bra twirls

round a finger plot

though naught

All naught but random pickings

stuck divine

with a smashing

flashing

clause of liquid nails

On her knees

she crawls

inches from your smile

pulled ear-to-ear with

Frantic clusters of consonants

teasing round a pole of

sequence

Feigning grace in each bead of sweat

on the brow

of he whose tongue

tastes the mouth of

the catacombs of dead dreams

fallen sour

where the fairy tale

should be.  

________________________________________________________________________________

Trifecta Week Sixty-Two:  Mouth-

3: something that resembles a mouth especially in affording entrance or exit: as

  a : the place where a stream enters a larger body of water

  b : the surface opening of an underground cavity

  c : the opening of a container

  d : an opening in the side of an organ flue pipe

________________________________________________________________________________