When we conceived a Valentine’s month devoted to sex, we suspected that our Poetry Friday partner Patricia Spears Jones, whose Painkiller was released earlier this year, would have a poem or two to contribute. And we were right. She writes: “Painkiller is sort all about ‘love’, ‘desire’ and even ‘sex.’  I’ll send something that you have not published.” If Valentine’s Day should be anything, we feel, it’s “Naughty.” And we couldn’t resist the just-published “Tributary,” which follows.

Today, February 11, is also Jones’s sixtieth birthday: “I think that is so outrageous.  I am lucky and anxious,” she writes.  “What a time what a time.” We know that she’s celebrating at a downtown Manhattan blowout, and hope that the dancing is nearly as warming as Jones’s hot poems.

Naughty

If you steal quarters from your mama’s purse,
& wear white patent leather with a hot pink dress,

you are the woman with the orgasmic scream
heard when Marvin Gaye swoons “distant lover”.

And why not be naughty?
Who needs nice or tawdry—both sides of a cup
meant not for loving, but for loosing.  Naughty

gets you a man’s hands where you want them
and leaves you careful with your own finances.

Let’s you wear the blonde wig when the red one would do.

Naughty allows gossips to flare and flash your name.
Reputation created in tongues tremor.  No shame

in your walk from bar stool to dinner chair.
Your man acknowledges the danger ahead,
slides the seat and smiles.

If he had diamonds to give, you’d be drenched in luminosity.
Your jewels are your own and you wear them with ease

when you want to.  Deft on the balance bar of life,
your fall will be amazing.  Oh think of the applause
as you rise up, get back on, and fall off again.


Tributary

between nipple and the cock’s split tip,

melanin fleshes a deeper, darker brown

pleasure and genesis at play

nappy hairs circle and re-circle

your skin’s sweat to taste my mouth

seeks all your earth bound beauty

torso and groin        Oh tributary

splash

From Painkiller, Tia Chucha Press. 2011.


Join the conversation

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  • drpatallen February 11, 2011 at 6:08 pm

    I am mad for Naughty! This is a woman who is certainly the kind of sexpot that we want to hear from here at WVFC. I adore the lines,

    No shame
    in your walk from bar stool to dinner chair,
    Your man acknowledges the danger ahead…

    Own the room Patricia Spears Jones!

    Pat

    Reply
  • Millicent February 11, 2011 at 4:16 pm

    I love these naughty poems! And the notion of naughty containing more power than “bad’ or “sneaky” and naughty being a free choice. The exact opposite of weakness. Naughty is like when directors used to call Bette Davis “difficult” or folks who refer to strong women as “cold.”

    These lines in particular are wonderful:
    Naughty
    gets you a man’s hands where you want them
    and leaves you careful with your own finances.

    Reply