Winter is the Earth’s blasting wet dream
stimulated from the equator’s erogenous tickle
in the waves against Chile doubling off
the desert subduction mountains.

It is the creaming splat as the cum
meets fridged pole air like the slap
of ropy jizz across the face and an open mouth.

Turn your head to the sky and swallow every snowflake.

 

 

This poem is directly related to “Winter’s Backdoor Gift,” which you can get for free here: