Saturday, June 12, 2010

Measure Of Ecstasy

 by Morgan Atwood

The ruler fell swiftly
a smack that danced around the walls
She arched against it
finding the hand between her shoulder blades
Its limits were short and it drove her down in reply
Again the ruler fell against her
leaving its measure across her ass
a bright red brand, ecstasy by the inches

In the morning she would dress
and take to the cold air on her way to class
Lip bitten she would thrum between striding legs
full and wet with the hope of what came in the dark
and the hidden places
This was the means and ritual by which she continued
functionality and socialization in the normal hours
a headlong rush at brutality in the interstices  

Morgan Atwood
is a specialist; He hasn't found his specialty yet, but once he does, he'll set the world on fire. Until then, he writes things. His work has been seen in BULL: Mens Fiction, and Miners Ink.This week he is proud of having completed a persnickety project at work, and learning he was not in fact a year behind schedule as thought, but merely ten months. He blogs at:

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