Friday, November 15, 2013

Poetry Friday: For Eros

I can not carry my sex with me,
put my erotic statehood in a jar
and swim in it at length--
(one might never return)

"these pants come off"

she sings
she sings
she sings

I have nothing to grasp in the night
sweetbitter on repeat
falling through pleasure, chained
air whistling through parted fingers

your chest hums
I come

death lives there

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