It was a long summer
sadistic heat, brown grasses
people strewn about parks
like a smoldering battlefield
red
Flesh
Flesh wet, wet cooked smoked
still red
Flesh occupied my bed
painted flesh, perfect flesh
We were two bodies
escaping heat
or something else
friction
washed away in sweat.

After two months
I grew
weary
of the sun-oven, of him
of dry grass whistling with finality.

I ran
to a red desert
to scourge my flesh upon sandstone
to parch my tongue it's flesh memory
painted flesh, perfect flesh.

I ran
to silence

my carnal flesh.

08/13/2011

Posted on 09/09/2011
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