Flesh Drive

by S. Pelham Flood

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

After two months
I grew
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.


Posted on 09/09/2011
Copyright © 2024 S. Pelham Flood

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 09/11/11 at 08:45 PM

Some of this imagery inflicts some real damage on the psyche. Brutal, and perfect from start to finish.

Posted by A. Reed on 10/10/11 at 08:40 PM

I like the discovery, the absorbtion, the evolution. Wild.

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