It groans like an old Ford

There's a shadow that hovers across my breasts
It is sometimes a hand shape or sometimes a tongue
Often a cock

At these times I listen to the sounds of my vagina
It groans and moans like a retired soldier
Eager but reluctant to go into battle again

My cunt seems keen to face the bayonets
The muscular swords
The long spears of joy

Sometimes my lips purse with
Welcoming thoughts
Of a battlefield of lust

A battlefield of sweat and passion
The smell of sex on white sheets
And the dotted stains of cum shots

My ears are pricked
By the sound of my sobs and sighs
Floating out into the night sky

My legs open to embrace
And to inflate
And to menace my memories