after the poet pointed out there are dozens of well-known euphemisms for male masturbation and none for women
How could I not start to think
of circling the black hole,
polishing the pearl,
rubbing the rose bud,
loosening the tight knot,
spreading the soft butter,
frosting the sweet cake,
stirring the soup till it’s hot,
dancing on the vortex,
getting sucked into the eddy,
diving into the deep end.
What does it mean
that we don’t have language
for a woman who pleases herself?
Consider the tectonic shift,
the solitary wiggle,
the single squirm,
the one-handed time warp,
churning the cream
climbing pink mountain,
traveling to the temple,
spinning the dark silk.
No choking chickens,
no spanking monkeys,
no beating meat,
no wanking.
More like swirling the universe,
mining for diamonds,
finding hidden treasure
wading in the whirlpool,
the reason I can’t answer the phone.