Erotic Home

Miriam N. Kotzin Sweat Rice   After awhile, I understand this island magic spell, simple as boiling water. Easy to become your acquired taste: it just takes rice, brown or white, cooked as always in a heavy pot - and my desire as I squat naked over the rice, thinking of you while the rising steam trails insubstantial plumes, warm as I know your breath would be. At first the steam is all until, surrendering, I grant you this knowledge: molasses, salt, bitter melon. Being Packed   Crude to ask how many cc.  You say, "Hang on for dear life."  I   don't know where you want me to put my legs, my arms, what   you like me to do when you make your moves, but I expect   to hear, "Anytime you don't like it we can stop."                           I rode crossbar years before you   came along.  It took a while until I got the hang of it,   to lift my legs, bend my torso back.  It was a balancing act   until I learned to move without thinking, all my   body responding to taking curves.  He'd slow down or   speed up without warning.  I was heedless of danger, knew only the ride. He was taking me straight home.

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Miriam N. Kotzin teaches creative literature and writing at Drexel University where she directs the Certificate Program in Writing and Publishing. Her poetry and fiction have been published widely in print and online magazines; her poetry has received three nominations for a Pushcart Prize. She also writes fiction collaboratively with Bill Turner.  She is a contributing editor of Boulevard and, with Bill Turner, Co-Founding editor of Per Contra, for which she serves as Editor for Fiction, Poetry and the Visual Arts. She is the author of an erotic blognovel. Visit her website:  miriamnkotzin.com