I Play Dead
by Wendy Geal
the brawling unsettling of our nerves shuts me out.
i hear them spiraling round inside suspending themselves.
my breath, stillborn. i am not myself.
your kiss, an electric wet, you and i
we breed, touch like fireflies
aching against the dark, again & again
an exposition we are, you stirred me about
two brusises blackening themselves out
i turn like haze over your ivory clouds,
an obscure burst you scratch out
with your lying hush-hushing until the lights
make themselves gone, and you and i
coil ourselves in perfect erotic sequence
i am your fix.
Posted on 12/07/2004
Copyright © 2020 Wendy Geal