march 2011

leave me my denial

let us not speak in nevers
as thunder asserts itself beyond
this window and the room washes in greens
and grays, speak not of forevers in definites–
only the finite nature of this punishment
which no crime required, please baby,
say nothing of not and don’t ever anymore

remind me of nothing indicative
that i may not know the unreality of your softness
or rough thumbs between my teeth,
the uncomfortable force of your hand atop mine
between your thighs or the violence
with which you claimed me those times

speak not of entombing my flesh inside forever
without the blackness of your gaze alighting its nerves
and fibers. i don’t want to hear anymore,
please don’t speak, only cover my mouth
and cover my body with yours, bury me
and push me out into quiet ecstasy
one more time

i’m not always unhappy

on his way into work
he stops, stares, freezes in the heat
picks up his phone and dials– says
“there are four red cars
in a straight line in front of me!”
past the doors he unwraps a cube of watermelon gum
and pops it into his mouth. the taste thrills him.
the bag which holds his lunch is a dull blue,
and he smiles;
he finds pleasure in such simple things.

i might get shin splints

being accustomed as i am to flouting demand
of course all myself tenses accordingly to the order
in your name, my hackles raised and teeth show baringly
rage; of course in need i am reduced to the starving creature
that night in the rain on your stairs with my useless jacket
umbrella unoffered to your bedraggled head for fear– for terror,
yes, you suck the bravery from my lips with your black eyes

i shake for longing
i shudder for want– your hands so far away still curved
to the shape of my hips and i can see it– don’t tell me that’s natural,
don’t say seeing things (how can you see things unless they are there?

tell me)
all pride hung over my shoulder to dry from the storm of your silence
having wet me through to bone showing clear against my clothes,
a heart pounding with pleas–

hold me, hold me, hold me

but you stay with your stoniness and i with my loneliness, yes,
of course,

on opposite planes standing back to front here we are
and i am obedient when it serves me so yes, yes,
i will heed your name and its orders after all
(oh please my legs my heart
don’t fail me in this pursuit)

afterward,

after he fucks me
there’s this smell, an aroma like…
well like bread fresh-baked,
soft and warm and dry and a little sweet
and my legs are tired like i’ve been running
(from being molded into contortions beyond my consciousness)
and my heart is slow like a high, sleepy
my mind still yammers
and he’s dressing again which pisses me off–
i want to lay here skin to skin–
but i say nothing.
he’s done; i’m still hungry,
but i drink in the sight of his satiation
and say to myself,
this is enough.