Posted in eavesdrop, Poetry


My mom has this awkward
reputation in my hometown. It makes it hard
to look her in the eyes when I go over
for Sunday dinner.

My whole life, the image I had of her and my father
was as tender and loving high school
sweethearts. I built all of my ideas of love
around that.

Until I found out
that whenever a couple in town
is having trouble, they call my mom up.

She’s not a surrogate or engaging in some weird cuckold shit.
She’s the

“Cock Whisperer.”

I don’t know the details and I don’t
really want to, but if you believe
the local gossips, she can literally speak to dicks.

Make them hard.

Recite incantations
that make a man virile and full
of thick, syrupy cum.

Some real dark arts kind of stuff.

I’m not sure which part of it I find stranger:

that my mom gets paid to engage in
penile witchcraft,  or the fact that
even in her 60s, she still calls it
a “doodle.”



Trying to find the right words.

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