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by Richard Fein
There's always a bisexual romance right before your eyes,
a blatant and promiscuous mingling of masculine and feminine.
First the flower courts its lover, the sterile bisexual female bee.
The male stamens caress
as the enticing aroma, the dazzle of colors, the taste of nectar
lure the bee through the yielding petals to the honeypot within.
And then comes the lesbian embrace.
Her legs touch the sticky female pistil while the petals sway.
And sterility begets fruition
as the dusty pollen settles on the female's stigma,
then grows down to penetrate the ovaries.
And fluids surge. And there is turgor.
A slow stiffening as the luscious ripe ovary swells.
Flowers and fruits,
what human males offer the objects of their desire,
to open them to a surge of pleasure brief as a blossom.