And she touched boyish lips and felt his fierce
need so she rubbed his childish heat. Bending
over, she raised her skirt, letting him pierce
her. A son’s love. Belly down, back curving,
she felt him slip between her cheeks, debauched
as all goddesses are. He was possessed,
a beast, creaming deep in her guts. She watched
him half-emerge, gleaming. Prince said incest
was all “it’s said to be.” She squeezed him, dull
and soft in her muscles, blushing, childish.
He called her “mom,” and, with a slurping sigh,
withdrew. Then he too was gone, a middle-
schooler home for lunch. She stood, his boyish
gift for some blessed rite dripping down her thigh.