Unfucked
A Poem
by
Charles Harvey
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Unfucked
Copyright © 2015 by Charles W. Harvey
Please subscribe to the mailing list for exciting updates. Thank you. Subscribe
Author’s Website www.charlesharveyauthor.com
Epigraph
But his wife, from behind him, looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.
Genesis, Chapter 19, Verse 26
Table of Contents
Epigraph
Unfucked
About The Author
Excerpt: Maura and Her Two Husbands
Unfucked
Maura reached to unlock her front door
Of wood and stained glass,
Of dreams, empty hearts, and
Lips unrequited.
A sliver of light between door and jamb stopped her.
She turned and looked at Sidney’s car parked in the drive.
“I’ve told that man a million times to lock this door.
He left enough room for demons and snakes to enter.”
Maura shut the door with a soft click.
Sidney’s briefcase sat where he normally parked it,
On the bottom step of the winding stairs.
Her husband,
That--“Everything has a place”—man
a knot of contradictions—
Neat with furniture, careless with lives, even his own.
“But that’s a man,” Maura sighed.
She threw her purse on the couch and started to yell Sidney’s name,
But changed her mind. He was no doubt playing
Some silly game on the computer and wouldn’t answer.
“That’s a man too—responding only to dinner and pussy.”
Maura was thirsty.
Her drive home drained her of all liquid except blood
And the heat had parched her lips.
She slipped into her silent kitchen.
Two glasses sat on the counter—
One half full one half empty.
That was Sidney’s favorite riddle.
And he was a man of riddles.
He could love her all day with words
And birdlike pecks on the cheek
But leave her unfucked at night.
As fresh water splashed into her clean glass,
She thought she heard a moan.
“The devil,” Maura said to herself, cocked her head, and listened.
Silence.
“What’s there to say in the house of an unfucked woman?
What are these walls whispering about?
Nothing at all.” She sighed and continued filling her glass.
As she drank, a voice cried out, “Fuck me into jelly!”
“Surely that’s the devil, but what does he want with me?
Jezebel doesn’t live in this tomb of chrome and glass,
Of pecks on the cheek and a twat untouched.
What does the devil want with me?”
Maura stood at the stairs leading to her bedroom.
And pondered over Lucifer, who by now
Had groaned four times like a man in the gas chamber.
She looked at her watch. It was only four in the afternoon.
Perhaps she should have warned Sidney she was getting off early.
Could he be in bed with a bottle of champagne,
And her panties on his head like a crown?
She had seen that act in a magazine.
But that woman got fucked. Even the champagne bottle
Had gotten into the act.
“How is it that a bottle can be more fun than a man?”
She had wondered then. Now she knew.
Maybe Sidney was taking care of some of his
Man business. Maura had peeped him once in the bathroom,
In the wee hours of the night while she was supposed to be asleep—
Saw him spilling his seed into the toilet.
With eyes squeezed together, he reminded her of a man
Betting his life on a roll of dice in a game of craps.
“All of those children going to drown in the clean toilet,”
She said as she touched her belly.
Maura tipped up the stairs,
Got halfway and “Bitch!” stopped her.
She looked over her shoulder,
“Surely the devil is in these walls mocking me.”
A hand slapped against flesh. More sighs and moans
Tumbled down the stairs to where she stood
By the painting of Butterflies Fluttering Among Pomegranates
Oozing seed and blood.
The voice was unfamiliar--deeper than Sidney’s.
The tongue might have been attached to a ghetto street corner,
Or James Earl Jones.
Maura wondered if she was dreaming, and should she hike her dress—
Hike it to the sky and let the garment float away like a kite.
By now she was at the top of the stairs.
Standing by the Montage of Bees Buzzing Through Sunflowers.
This was Sidney’s favorite painting. Splashes of yellow and black burst
Through the white walls and made her dizzy.
Their bedroom door was ajar—so like that peck on the cheek Sidney.
“Maybe he was in the spare room watching porn,” Maura thought.
Porn was something men did, she supposed.
Porn--jack-off in the toilet, rinse, and repeat,
Leave the wife unfucked.
She started to let Sidney have his moment.
But thought about the two glasses on the counter—
One half full, one half empty.
Maura stood at the doorway to their bedroom.
Moans and sighs sang in her ears. Her breathing slowed.
She wondered why that bitch’s twat was getting fucked
While hers lay discarded like a dead fish in the mud.
The tall African Fertility Sculpture, with jutting breasts and moon face,
Beckoned from her stone pedestal.
“Make me your sword, so that I may smite that whore.”
Maura paid no attention.
After all, despite his contradictions,
Sidney filled up the space around her,
Opened tight jars and carried the heavier bags of groceries.
He liked her spaghetti and called her “honey.”
They did a little sex thing every other Friday.
He was enough husband.
Fertility laughed and shook her head.
“Enough husband,” she mocked Maura.
Maura tossed all reasoning aside,
Snatched Fertility off her pedestal,
And pushed open the door
Enough to stick her head and shoulders in,
Like a cat peering around a corner.
The first thing Maura saw was Sidney’s feet high in the air,
As if he was flying on a playground swing.
She noticed how clean and pink his soles looked--like child’s feet.
She toured past the foot, ankle,
Down his tan leg, and past his knee shaped like a red potato.
Her eyes suddenly shifted to the mirror hanging above the dresser.
She couldn’t look directly at the ass gyrating between her husband’s knees.
It seemed rude to stare at the winking eye
In the middle of the Devil’s black ass.
Below the buttocks hung the Devil’s horse cock,
Sweating, drilling deep into Sidney.
All night long. All night long.
While Maura stood unfucked
Hold
ing onto Fertility.
####
About the Author
Charles W. Harvey is a native Houstonian and a graduate of the University of Houston. He has studied fiction under the guidance of Rosellen Brown and Chitra Divakaruni at U of H. He has studied poetry under Joyce James and Cynthia MacDonald. In 1987, Charles was a 1st place prize recipient of PEN/Discovery for Cheeseburger, which went on to be published in the Ontario Review. In 1989 Charles Harvey was awarded the Cultural Arts Council of Houston Grant for Writers and Artists. Also in 1989 he was a finalist in the MacDonald's Literary Achievement Awards. Charles has been published in Soulfires, Story Magazine SHADE, High Infidelity, The James White Review, and others. He is the author of the novels The Butterfly Killer and Promise Goodday. He is also the author of several story and poetry collections. He is happy to be a part of Wes Writers and Publishers.
The Publisher and Authors from Wes Writers & Publishers strive to bring you the best in fiction and poetry. We support many fine author/brands and diverse fiction genres. We strive for excellence. A better reading experience won’t happen without your valuable input. That’s why reviews are so helpful. Please take the time and leave a review. We also want to stay in touch with you. The best way to do so is to join our mailing list. By joining, you will get excerpts from our upcoming titles and other important information about books and publishing. Please subscribe to the mailing list. Thank you. Subscribe
Connect with Harvey
Facebook
Web
Twitter
Blog
If you enjoyed this book, you will also like:
Minister Q
Betty’s House
Odd Voices in Love
*******
Something On The Grill Sizzling For Summer 2016
MAURA AND HER TWO HUSBANDS
An Excerpt
Easy leaned on his elbow with his hand cradling his head. The thin sheet that covered him, traced every curve of his leg and ass. He faced the television and didn’t notice Maura standing in the doorway. On the TV, Tom and Jerry played their games of cat and mouse until Jerry bashed Tom upside the head with a mallet. Easy laughed. Maura cleared her throat. He turned and watched her looking at him.
Maura searched her head for words, but she found nothing but numbers and accounting formulas. What could she say to this man, she wondered? She looked at Easy lying in front of her swaddled like a baby. She could have grabbed the African Fertility statue and clubbed him to death as he lay helpless. He had come between her and Sidney. But was that his only crime? Someone had let out his cornrows. His hair hung loose and almost touched his shoulders. A black Christ or a black devil? A voice in her head told her to touch his hair and he would take the curse away, and she would be healed. But Maura disobeyed the voice. She pulled off her top and flung herself across his body. He managed to turn over onto his back. As he turned the sheets wound tight around him imprisoning him more so. She ravished his face with kisses as he struggled to free his arms. Easy's lips reminded her of Sidney before he showered. She knew those lips had traveled over Sidney’s body in the wee hours of the morning while she slept fitfully, dreaming of the act she was now committing. Her thigh brushed his thick manhood. It was hard as a brick.
“Slow down, girl,” she heard him utter. But she did not slow down. She thrust her tongue between his lips and tasted his pungent morning breath. She could not slow down. She could not turn around.
Easy managed to free one arm and he held her tight against his chest. With one hand, he grabbed her hair, pulled her face from his, and looked into her eyes. He released her and their tongues probed and teased like two prizefighters. Her hand grasped his manhood and squeezed until it felt like a rolling pin. Overcome with energy, Easy sprang up and caused Maura to roll over. He freed his other hand from the sheets, rolled on top of her, and pinned her arms. His lips traveled down her neck nibbling and probing the soft flesh. He kissed her collarbone before traveling to her chest. His tongue circled over each nipple until it stood up firm. She pulled his head close to her and he tugged and sucked her nipples like a baby. He stopped and looked at her. But she couldn’t stand to see her reflection in his eyes and she pushed him back to her bosom. She held him there and felt him tugging at the waistband of her warm-ups. She tried to pull his hands away, but they tugged her pants halfway down her thighs. She was about to give in and kick her legs free, when the image of the Gerber baby filled her head.
Maura had thought of babies before. She thought of them running between her and Sidney’s knees. She thought of their curly heads and their skin in shades of tan and caramel blended by her and Sidney’s genes. She looked at Easy’s dark chocolate shoulders hovering above her. She hadn’t imagined anything looking like—well Topsy was the word her Grandmother used to describe dark children with nappy heads.
“Where are the condoms?” Maura asked Easy between kisses. He leaned over and pulled out the top nightstand drawer. The box was as light as air in his hands. He looked inside and shook the carton as if a foil shield might be stuck to the sides hiding.
“Damn,” he cursed. Maura played with his lips, circling their thickness and inserting her fingers between them. “We don’t need no condoms,” he whispered. He rose and planted himself between her feet. He reached up and grabbed her panties and pulled them off along with her warm-up pants. He threw them off the bed, grabbed her feet, and sucked her toes. His mouth traveled down one leg, took a moment to breathe in her crotch, before traveling down the other thigh and back to legs and ankles and feet. When he journeyed back to her crotch, he lingered over her shaved pussy. Maura arched her back and pulled his head close as if she was going to pull him inside of her. She shut her eyes and imagined herself as the woman from Hustler--eyes walled back in her head between ecstasy and death. She looked in the mirror and watched Easy's ass and his balls hanging between his legs.
Suddenly she pushed Easy’s head away, grabbed his ankles and lifted his legs. Her only instructions came from the fire-scarred photo. She bent over Easy’s manhood and opened her mouth wide. His dick felt like a large pickle, rigid and ringed with veins. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her mouth cradled it until Easy grabbed a handful of her hair. He gently eased her head up and down until Maura caught his rhythm and swam on her own. Her eyes took in his hairy balls that looked like turkey gizzards and the nappy hair between his legs. She teased him until he grabbed her hair and sent her back to work. She felt Easy’s body tighten and the veins in his manhood grew rigid. He began to groan. He tried to push her away, but Mara would not turn away. She was stubborn and one-minded like a fish after a lure. She reminded herself of an old sow rooting after filth in the mud and she didn’t care. Her pace quickened. Her throat ached. She looked at Easy. His eyes were closed and he breathed rapidly like a dying man. His hands gripped the back of her head. He was the fisherman who would not let go of the prize catch, even if it meant falling into the sea and drowning. He called Jesus’ name a couple of times as any sinner would about to release his soul upon the altar. In a moment Maura’s mouth was filled with hot bitter seed.
He wanted to ask her where she had learned to suck dick. But he felt the sound of his voice would ruin the moment. They lay there listening to the pest control guy spray the yard next door. The motor driving his spray gun hummed, ebbed and rumbled as it killed the remains of Maura’s spell. Maura raised up on one elbow and looked at Easy.
“I need a favor from you,” she whispered.
“What, little lady?” He kept his eyes closed.
The little lady sounded strange to Maura’s ears. She had always been called Maura. She had never had a nickname outside the names Myesha had called her when they were growing up. “I need you to talk to Sidney about the divorce, get him to change his mind.”
“Sidney is a grown man.”
Maura touched Easy between his legs. “And I’m a grown woman.” Her hand traveled over his manhood, over his belly, and caressed his neck. Her fing
ers brushed his lips. When he parted his mouth, her index finger slipped in and he sucked it. Maura’s cellphone chimed feverishly downstairs. She let it ring while Easy sucked her fingers. He kissed her and tasted his seed in her mouth.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Easy whispered.
****
When he got ready to catch the eleven o’clock bus he paused at the living room door. Maura looked up from her computer. “I’d give you a lift, but I’ve got some work to do.”
“No worries.”
“Are you going to talk with Sidney?”
“I liked that bra and those panties you had on the other night.” Maura was silent. Easy shut the door behind him. She got up and watched him until he turned the corner.
Coming Soon
For More information, Please go to the Authors Website