Euclid, My Clit

A Friday evening
Booty call sadly canceled
An itch with no scratch

I lay there, alone
My mind begins to wander
To places of past

I must have seen him
A different time, I was
An innocent girl

His face singular
Strewn across the page, a man
Of world fame and truth

Oh Euclid, my clit
Aches for your nimble fingers!
They were earthly gods

They wrote of new planes
Perform that transform
Heighten my pleasure!

They made divisions
But the line has blurred between
Me and ecstasy!

“Dodecahedron”
Your tongue makes me spill and writhe
In such wicked shapes

Oh Euclid, my clit
Can take no more brilliance
I close my eyes, peace

I gasp -- was it real?
Truly Euclid and my clit?
A problem unsolved