A gallimaufry of beings congregate
in the loft above my skull,
recumbent -
their veins push liquor
into the heat of their blood
I am solitary -cerebration-
my eyes blank against the turns,
where the collective drunk vox lifts
to the molecules of stars.

I haven't bathed since your hands
found my breasts,
flesh-flushed fucking
to the rhythm of the rain
outside your bedroom window.

I am thinking of your body - hard -
against my crevices, your voice, dark -
in the tangled threads of my hair,
and we pulse, kinetic,
a blur of longing
in the half-light of our intentions.

I am thinking of your incisors, glistening
against every artery of myself,
and you come, silent;
and we lay there until the Sun
bleeds through the very beginning
of ourselves.

10/29/2008

Posted on 10/30/2008
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