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Poem: Ebb and Flow 

Ebb and Flow

My sex drive is breaking up
like a bad cell phone connection.
That no one picks up
sounds like good news.
A horseshoe crab washed up
by the outgoing tide, I lie
on its sandy stage, raked
seawards, wishing for
a level playing field.
Waves of applause attend me
as I endlessly rock to and fro.
On the next beach someone’s
ringer is ringing,
or just another buoy
marking the way.

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Speaking of Poetry, sex

  • A poem by John Hopper.

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