By Gay Greenleaf

We never heard her side

of the story; how

she laughed when the milk-

white bull rubbed

his velvety head

against her swelling breasts;

how he licked her lips

with his warm tongue,

and her veins blazed

with steam from his damp

breath; how her heart raced

as he scooped her up with

an easy toss of his curly

head. They didn't want

us to know how she enjoyed

his lips lapping her labial flow

beneath the burning Aegean

sun; hot hotly she ached

with desire

to receive the god again.

[Another poem by Gay Greenleaf]

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