The Cane of Curiosity

This poem by LadieJJ is used on the Old Tom Archive with permission.

My curios­ity over took me
And I knew I had to ask
Luck­ily you were happy to oblige
To make the unknown, known to me
To help me ease my fears
The more we talked, the more I knew
I had made the right choice
You led me to a small table
When I bent over it was with
trem­bling legs and shaky hands
With my bot­tom on dis­play
I could feel your pres­ence
As you stood behind me
The mix of fear and antic­i­pa­tion
Had never been so strong
I gasped as the cane struck
First on one side then the other
I was totally lost in sen­sa­tion
I remem­ber your hand on my back
Check­ing, reas­sur­ing, com­fort­ing
No strike was unex­pected
The swish of air pre­pared me
For that sting of pain
A sting that came over me twice
Once as the cane landed
And again sec­onds later
As the pain soaked in
Tak­ing over my whole body
Bring­ing excite­ment and plea­sure
You took your time
The num­ber of strokes
Was not too many, nor too few
Just enough to know
That I had been pushed
To this place
Where my curios­ity
Had been answered
With a defin­ing crack.….

Poetry is vocal paint­ing, as paint­ing is silent poetry.
– Simonde


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