The best way to describe this debut collection by Canadian poet Megan Butcher (published by Asteroidea in 2004) would be to call it, as Front&Centre magazine Editor Matthew Firth writes, "a perfect mix of blunt sexual imagery and sharp, concise language." These poems are sex toys left out among underwear scattered about the room after a heated night. They are sweaty, cum-soaked sheets wrung into a rope between the legs of a lover, still tangled in her partner's limbs.

The best way to describe this debut collection by Canadian poet Megan Butcher (published by Asteroidea in 2004) would be to call it, as Front&Centre magazine Editor Matthew Firth writes, "a perfect mix of blunt sexual imagery and sharp, concise language." These poems are sex toys left out among underwear scattered about the room after a heated night. They are sweaty, cum-soaked sheets wrung into a rope between the legs of a lover, still tangled in her partner's limbs.

The barometer of this sexually charged, 19-poem collection varies from being suggestive in "coral," to making out "...in junky park," to Dominatrix activity in Present: "my head tilts/ back   your teeth   keen against the frangible skin/ of my wind pipe   the breath beating/ through   cuspids close hard on the pain   cleaves/ a ribbon of blood/ i smear a red streak on the counter after you/ bend me over."

What differentiates this from a collection of raunchy, sex tales in verse is Butcher's careful crafting of details and images into a succession that rapidly knocks the libido back and forth like a peanut bag. Here are two of four poems from the wild "hey baby" series.

hey baby (i)

i've been thinking about you sodomizing me all day.
how my hands would feel, slick against the shower wall.
your tongue, wet as my skin but warm. press it against
my ass, you'd swirl it around and i'd relax, push back a
bit,k i'd open for you. you'd slip your tongue in, firm like
you fuck my mouth.        before i noticed, you'd change
your tongue for a finger, stretching me a bit wider,
you'd drip lube down the crevice, use it to slip another
finger in. you'd do it just a bit rough, to hear me gasp
and watch me bite my arm.   you'd rock your fingers
back and forth inside me, fucking me harder each time,
building a rhythm i'd match.   but you'd stop abruptly, a
mewl from me, you'd pull out fast, leave me waiting,
while you turned me around and put the condom in my
mouth, made me get on my knees and roll it down with
my lips, you'd pull me up again and turn me around,
bend me over putthe head of your cock against my ass.
i'm loose    relaxed, i clench and then release against the
tip, you wait for the right beat and push fast inside.    the
swiftness, your presence deep inside me, i'd yell out and
you'd stop, a hand on my shoulder, soft whispers kiss
my inner ear, is this what you want, is this.   you make
me shudder an answer out, and take it.

hey baby (iii)

i'm wearing a skirt today.       sitting here with my legs
crossed, thisghs pressed against my hard clit.  i would
greet you, bent over, my hands pale starfish against the
dark blue sheets,   watery light refracted through the
window above. i would stay there, muscles taut, legs
shaking asshole pulsing, a heart waiting to start. when
you come to me.   my skirt pulled up over my hips,
panties aroudn my thighs, and my cunt.   the vessels
glutted with blood, red lips marking time. you don't
start slow, you don't play safe.  you rest your cock a
moment on my ass, then i open for you, you press and i
push i open and pour myself                         inside out.

For more information on Butcher, visit her blogs: Writing, Tuché And Automaton, Shows, Asteroidea Press. To order copies of "this is what she said," email the author at This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it