november 2011

receive her king

tonight i want you;
i want to lure you and those let-me eyes
to the swirl of the blanket amid which
you have taken me so many times. i want
to swallow your kiss, to eat your moans

so i swell with you and with my longing. tonight
i want to dig the rolling fields of your back–
fuck finding china, i want to reach bone
and carve my full name there. your hands
know my hipbones and my lips know yours:
let us reacquaint them. let me pull you into me
as far as you’ll go, farther still– let me devour you
until i hold you whole and ubiquitous inside my skin.
i want to surround you and pull tight like the cords
on those lovely bags of crown, all that gold satin thread
and secrets. tattoo me with your teeth,

tell every tongue and fingertip that trespasses here:
this is my territory. i will be your continent to rule,
your raucous ocean, your mute and malleable earth
to till. i will be your lone tree, erect and proud
as the curious creature between your thighs.

tonight, i am calling out to you: here i am.
have me. i am waiting.

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mon corps chant ton nom

i am composed of trillions of atoms
and tonight my body performed its song
of you– its vibrating symphony humming,
humming, humming your presence,
sighing your proximity, whispering
your existence. i was a mute chorus
of wanting you. every nerve and sinew
shivered with the exhilaration of passing messages
from brain to trembling limb, to fingertips
ecstatic to map your contours.

your skin, i have told you, is impossible,
and tonight my hands achieved that mission– my hands
cradled the great weight of you, caressed
so much satinlike glory, savored the tips
of your facial hair, smoothed your mustache
and swooned with the fullness of your lips.

i came home to find between my legs
a warmth as wet, as slick and fertile velvet
as the red night through which we rode,
all that rain reminding me of fantasies
i have not confessed. remembering
in the store how i moaned under my breath
looking at you– how i tensed in the car
as you fellated my finger– how i could have cried
watching your jet lashes shimmer in all that rainlight,
knowing you were awake with my desire beneath you
and how you unwittingly reduced my vocabulary
to oh god, oh god, oh please, oh yes
without touching me–

i will sleep hungry tonight,
wondering if in your bed
three turns, three streets and two doors away
you are starving, too, with me.

i answer you at last

maybe it is an amalgamation of things.
the smell in your mouth that is like air
whistling through a hollow sawn-off metal pipe
heavy and cold, intoxicates me. your skin
is impossible and your lips are luscious
to the point of screaming fuck,
as many times as the sky can hold.

you taught me bone-deep exhaustion
strong and sultry, collapsing in folds of limb
to the bed and dreaming strange dreams.
maybe it is the comfortable suffering in your closed eyes
while i pick your nose and peel the crust of sleep from your ducts
or the urge that presses my body between its palms and pushes in opposite directions
until i curve to your angles: my body says please, please, please,
and your body says yes, sleepily, grudgingly even, but always yes.
your body always says yes, even when your mind is drowsy. my body
says whatever you will as long as it’s you.

it could be the desperation in our anger and our embraces
or how i terrify myself late at night thinking you would be a decent father
if i was a better idea of a mother and we were those kind of people,
the ones who plan things. but we are the kind who slip subtly,
who sea change, who transmute from casual to conflicted,
from wicked to wanting: from lovers, only,
to loving.

why would you ask me a question like that, i want to know,
when you know i hate obvious questions? the answer is everything. it’s forty-two.
blue eyes white dragon. i love you more than there are versions of pokemon,
yu-gi-oh decks, versions of the cover for the newest harry potter dvd.
your eyes in the shower that night in the hotel,
these still-sore cuts and bruises marring/marking me (do you know that you claim me
even as you clutch me? i belong to you. you have no other choice now),
my puns that aren’t as bad as duck’s
and your memes. cracked.com on your phone
and the way your body seems to be suspended on a great sphere of wires
threaded right through you, pulling and twisting you
into contortions terrifying and beautiful to behold when you dance.
it’s written in the ink in your tattoos.

this is why. your scent. the drawn-bow angle that is your sensitive hipbone.
sunlight making your pupils contract until only the darkness of your eyes meets mine.
your nails in my back and your teeth in my side and your moans in my blanket long after you’re gone.
japanese. sushi. chai. everything i hate that you love. the chopsticks you laughed over
and tired memes.
you exist.

that is why.