Tag: sex

dream (poem)

all liquored up in bed and I am threaded into skin
and my sour sweat is sweet on chapped lips

and I dream in infants, their soft skin and endless chub
dangling limbs and gaping mouths

my mouth agape alone in a bed filled with body
filled with body and my skin dews as afternoon

rises, noon rises before ready and I am liquored
threaded in sour sweat

dreaming in infant skin and dangling limbs
and I can’t wipe the sweat from my skin

can’t wipe the skin from my skin
and it’s too hot here, too humid

and I dream in infants
but I don’t dream.

to wait (poem)

how silly of me to read your skin
pressing, your pressing as subcutaneous.

deep is relative. i know. and my reason
dizzies drunk on nonsense

on fancy on romance. on nonsense.
&i knew better than my excited

utterance, braided in borrowed sheets
in childhood bedrooms and now

i wait. like spoiling food, waiting
for teeth to sink and my nectar

to spill over lips, to be lapped up
to be savored, to be loved.

Poison in the pressing of skin

oh opium bud–my lips are fat with your poison
fat with your skin pressing

the pressing of skin is a precious thing
and so are your soiling words hushed
against my neck

against my neck     I use my breasts to brace
for work
for efficiency
they hold more than milk

you leak nightshade all over my sheets
all over my skin     the muscle
of your hands     the bend of my muscle
under your hands     fingers like oleander
petals pressing

and I am sleep love drunk
rolled in flannel
the fire escape moon silhouettes
on my thighs     on my thighs
on this skin     love like luck
could be a myth     and me

 

this is my poisonous flower poem. I’ve memorized it for recitation.

poison in the form of skin

 

oh sweet pea my lips
are fat with your poison
fat with your skin
pressed     the pressing
of skin is a precious
thing and so are your
soiled words hushed
against my neck   against
my neck   I use my breasts
to brace   for efficiency
they hold more than milk
you leak nightshade
all over my sheets   all
over my skin   the muscle
of your hands    the bend
of my muscle under your
hands    fingertips like
oleander petals and I
am sleep love drunk
rolled in flannel
the fire escape moon
silhouette on my thighs
on my thighs   on this
skin love like luck
could be a myth   and me
a drowning siren

ur qt—a poem

Your fingers licked the grooved
metal strings
and the clicking of
your tongue on the ridges
of the roof of your mouth
strummed the sinews of my skin
in lulling rhythms, built
craters of sighs in my
collarbone. All love
dripping from the length
of your hair and me
hugging my knees
on the edge of your bed.
Babe I live in the linger
of your breathing
on my neck
and you keep dropping
your pick but I don’t
miss a step of song
when you bend
to pick I up. I’m tangled
in the sienna brown
of your sheets and I know
that coffee burnt your
tongue but it didn’t
hold us back.

Steeped

My body’s steeped
in oleander blood
bathing the bodies
in hemlock tea
their petal skin
bowing under teeth
and I am heady
in my silent skin
bent under tongue
sheets licked
with love
liquor
and I am sick
with the
residue
of his sweat
on my lips

Balcony Tantrums

I’m taking this tantrum
to the street
parade these flaming wrists
like drunken prophecies
drunken prophecies
why aren’t these
the goddamn gospel
why aren’t these
the rash of unwilling luck
I roll in the rain
of sleepless
sleepless what
balconies that aren’t mine
red. the color of lips
my tongue    his skin
when I’m done with it
     the fall from here
     wouldn’t hurt too bad
I’d fly like blackbirds