Poem: Phantasmagoria
here is that man
here is that man with the hands that have not harmed me.
their love has made an island out of me
they must’ve talked alone,
hidden treeful spots where candied light gets in
kissing, soft soft slow.new and beautiful, must’ve sparkled if gone any furthersweat, spit, dew.cotton shirts and shorts soaked in sunshinebehind his tongue, a blooming red bloody flower.
birds and bees privy
to this new religion,
buzz with the movement
enthralled at this new perfume
rising like steam.
Night coating
with it's velvet cream
eyes adjust, yes
glancing at each other’s whites, gleam.
Going in for his neck
soft, salty, dried off from the sea.
tasting more, giddy from sin.
All skin, spit and death
during this necessary dance in blood -
a petal in my mouth!
laughter refreshes the heavy air,
must've been so hungry for God
while wearing our funeral wreath around our waists.
The animal act ended
ritual complete.
laying there, breathing in sync,
the fireflies crowd and form a senate
the midges prepare for the morning heat.
Comments
Post a Comment