The Queen

by Brian Rosenberger

Full moon voyeur
dark woods
even the lightning bugs and mosquitoes
had retired for the evening.
We were at the Point
where the East and West forks
of the Whitewater river met
a crossroads of sorts
well past the witching hour
a time for revelation.
She admitted to her reputation
earned for her skills at sucking dick
the blow job queen
one I was not entirely unaware of
but I was more concerned
with catching catfish.
Weeks or months later I remember her and
her pet lizard, most likely a gecko,
my finger slipping effortlessly into her mouth
We all live with regrets.
My dick, her mouth
is not one of mine.