This poem is dirty in a sexy way. But rather than just being a dirty poem about sex, it actually has a surprising amount of depth. So it's dirty and deep. At first when reading it I was a little like "Whoa," but once I started to just go with the flow, so to speak, and let the poem do its thing, it turned out to be actually quite good in my mind.

Just a few more specific comments.

Wrapped tight in her saran wrap grip,

It took me a reread or two to try and "wrap" my mind around this line. I'm thinking "saran wrap" is supposed to be a reference to a condom. So I didn't think the "her" being connected to that phrase was a clear connection. I understand the phrase "saran wrap grip," but I just don't think it particularly pertains to the "her". You're wearing the condom, not her.

trying not to come, up for air… I can barely breathe

I liked the way this line was arranged..."trying not to come" and "up for air" work on their own, separated by the comma, but also can fit together, giving two different readings of the same line, which I think is clever.

I'm a submarine in this ocean.

Actually, I think you could remove this line. I don't really feel you need to return to this image, and I think the poem ends well with the previous line. Just my opinion, though.

Very nice imagery in some parts of this poem, and a good effort, overall.

Just a couple of things that mar it:

Wrapped tight in her saran wrap grip,

Aside from what Britain pointed out, this just isn't very enticing imagery.  (Actually, I didn't think this refered to a condom at all, but to her... well, you know.)  Can't we find a slightly more romantic way to describe this (especially if it's not a condom reference!) than a product used to wrap food in?  Satin grip? Velvet grip?  in her slick something grip?  I can't think of anything good, but I'm sure  you can find something else.

I realize this is real… I feel dizzy to fever.

"dizzy to fever" doesn't make any sense whatsoever (at least, to me).  You feel so dizzy that it's caused a fever?  Dizzy and feverish, perhaps?  I suspect the first (maybe?) but I think it could do with some rewording.

a comfortable weight

that delays sadness and grafts me to the bliss of

her pumping hips.

The first two lines of this are great (I especially like line 2), but "pumping hips", I think, kind of destroys the lyric quality of it by suddenly going all crass again.

Euphoric chills drip from my neck down to my toes, it's all right, it’s just a ride.

This line looks like it's two lines smashed together into one.  Also, how can chills "drip"?  Maybe another word would go better in there (shiver? move? go?  I'm sure you can find something better.)  "it's all right, it's just a ride." really looks like it was just slapped on to the end there.  Why not make it into a separate line?

It’s a ride, even if only for an hour.

Something about "even if only" doesn't work for me, though I'm not sure why.

I'm a submarine in this ocean.

I agree with Britain on this line.

One last thing is that I'm not sure the "one hour ride" motif is the strongest piece of the poem.  It had a very ocean-y feeling to it from that first stanza, and in my mind at least, it stayed with that feeling throughout.  Maybe a name change is in order, too?  It's a very gritty, sweaty piece and "one hour ride" seems kind of ho-hum.

Keep up the good work!  I like what I've seen so far.

**Sensitive Readers - Strong language and images ahead - Avoid if reading this will offend your sensibilities** 

Vincent,

Please understand my intent is to help. The subject matter of the piece warrants some frank talk. As my critique comes from opinion, disregard any/all of it as you would the opinion of any other anonymous internet blowhole.

The poem is crazy level 1 masculine. The "she" in this poem may as well be a bologna sandwich. You aren't even done the act and you are already thinking about the parting. In this way, the poet acts as the witness to an act and its conclusion in time without actually experiencing the sensations - which are just words. If fucking her is akin to having sex with the entire ocean, then you've decided to pork the least interesting part, since you describe it like you are trying not to be elated. If you were experiencing these sensations with %100 of your being, then this poem would be completely different.  Surrender to the moment in the moment. The results will astound. This reads a bit like a process diagram. First stick it in, then squeeze, then her on top, distract self with thoughts of her/me leaving in 30 minutes.

The oceanic theme doesn't quite serve as it seems a bit juvenile; the whole meat submarine and salt water ocean seems a little primary schoolish. Mercifully there are no references to clams . 

Is this an ode to bittersweet - complete union followed by complete separation? Is this erotic poetry - if so, start a bit before the horizontals - dinner and a movie maybe? It's no fun if you cut straight to the party without the anticipation. Break out some euphemisms that are a little less "household" and a little more soul wrenching.

I want this work to be better. There is so much here, welling up behind the choices you made in each line. I think you should go do some more field research for the sake of science and good poetry. Pull out all the stops in the next draft - if you can't think of good euphemisms, then don't. Write it as raw as it feels, you can sort out the rest in revisions. Please post an updated version soon . I'm looking forward to it.

Warmest,

B