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Two Night Stands

by Matthew Zangen

Illicit sense allows our fast
a maladjusted, timely dance.
Feel this. Taste there. Please, here. Not yet.
Almost! Almost.

An over-read book on a shelf,
oratory voyeur,
tells me again “my love, your wanting,”
yes, I heard you,
lead together, lie together
with both our tongues out loud,
right? Because, you know, right? Where I’ll die?
“That’s enough” in the end, they would say;
it has to be enough
just to remember some moans.

Never mind the time. Want what’s left?
You earned this corpse
to be a hit at dinner parties. See me walk
without any help. Big smile, good. First fight, Panama,

dance like fire alarms, trap us with saviors in abandon
before our bones dry up and leave us, too, in escrow.
The appetites of our passions could roll over the windows
like desperate suns, ever in season,
burning leaves that were always thirsty.

No, stay. Read me like a long story,
taking my time. I have nothing else to give.
Tell me again. How lovely is this passage?

08/04/2020

Posted on 08/04/2020
Copyright © 2020 Matthew Zangen

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/09/20 at 03:23 AM

"Read me like a long story." Brilliant.

Posted by Rob Littler on 08/29/20 at 03:14 AM

I am seeing the two nightstands parallel to the pillow talk and walk around the block just to $#%@ the dog whether the weather is snow, shine, rain, or fog... endless endeavor. But yours is a love story here, the greatest reason to let language lead the light escaping from the top of one's head in such situations... in that sense since the words glowing themselves mind you, I am impressed by all of it, but my favorite simple line that makes me implode into a thousand inward shards is "Almost! Almost." because I can feel the fast-moving train suddenly stop, where there is that moment at the end of grace and the beginning of destruction.

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