Tuesday, July 5, 2016


Female nude. Egon Schiele. Public domain.


Your hands are cold with fear of where your sleek
Loins walk you past the vigilant gate
Mine shall warm yours.
Noctilucae strew the beach
Leave footprints spattered with neon flakes. You
Stand on the bed. I
Kiss you low until the twittering sigh this
Bird has flown. Through chastity’s rampart’s breach
Battering and charged merely with the empty medium as warhead
Barren of all that would swell you with new life this
Becomes a Sisyphean exercise to be closer than we can
And the ends are the means themselves.
Let us then rediscover again and again
In the gushing shower floor or on the couch
After breakfast brought in upon a cart
The need again to touch with urgency
I don’t mind if the sheets are moistened by your untoweled body
I shall seek and swallow every droplet

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