The Last Time Poem by Butch Decatoria

Can't remember

the last time I made love,

not the quick unarmored sex

gasping in a Friday night urgency,

tearing off clothes

with tiger-teeth and monkey-hands

no, making love:

like a gentle wash cycle

of lips on shoulder and nape,

simple looks of consenting thirst,

gorgeous shape of muscles

sifting into one another

glued in a slow, deliberate,

delicious dance

no conspiracy

no ulterior motive

but to know each and every niche

the highways of sweat and skin...

Can't recall exactly the date

of that last time

but I remember who

and I know how,

still remember those heavy eyes...


His searching hands between my legs


hot breath on my neck,

damn- how that had made me melt:

considerate fingers playing deep blues

my sides, my ribs,

rapacious thirst of oceans

dissolving into my august body

discovering sensitive spots to linger wet,

his mouth, I remember

pink caucasiansmoothness whispering

more & more my name - such authority on the kiss



As we become Las Vegas

bright lights & heat waves

hunger no longer an ache or crutch

I can't remember precisely

that last time I've been touched,

when my heart & soul felt

so much,

but I still can remember

the last time

with whom I made

This, like that

Oh! and

How!

He made me

melt...