Sunday, April 30, 2017

lions

paint indifference over my body like red shellac, 
like dipping into 
candy apple sugar.
can you feel the hesitation knotted in my stomach? 
can you feel yourself
inside of me?
we are not too different
you and i.

when i see a picture on the internet of two lions 
fucking 
i think of you.
not because of greygold mane or the sweat beaded
on your stomach 
but because of retracted claws and yowl, 
mewling kittens,
battering rams 
and you holding onto me like a lifejacket.

when i see two rats on the subway tracks
tearing each other apart, i think of you 
and i
tearing each other apart.
hold my sex in your cupped palm
like holy water.
lap at me with your lion tongue,
i will be as hard as candy apple,
twice as sweet.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

terra preta

the dogs, the dogs,
tiny rips to the bottom of my stomach and i know
enough not to trust anything that does not immediately
come with bared teeth.
the problem is
you come immediately with bared teeth
and it does not frighten me.
i know what it is to be bitten.

like an apple, baby,  i guess this means you have taken something
from inside of me.
intimacy as a civil war, which is to say 
that i care enough to revolt.
we sit on your bed and eat cake, 
     the city
     burns outside.

you like girls who are easy to swallow,
malleable in mouth, ones who melt on your tongue.
consumed, glittering,
i know enough to keep you hungry,
even if it means i also starve.
the villagers in rebellion, 
our fingertips caked with ash, 
manna and rain water, terra preta, 
find me buried with fish bones 
and charcoal
in your backyard, let me in through the screen door 
and wash the mud off with your hair, 
     terra preta
     dead soil turned fertile
     by hands.

i am good at broken things,
have i warned you of this?
     i am not a garden.
     i am a maelstrom,  
do you know what i do?
i come back from the dead.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

"why don't you ever let me be gentle with you?"

we have been playing this new game lately, 
the one where we are nice to each other. 
defense mechanisms lay 
dissected on the bedside table next to your glasses
and i can no longer remember 
intimacy as a weapon.

we have been playing this new game lately, 
the one where i spend the night 
and do not disappear even once.

so we have nice sex
and i let you inside me without your anger, i smooth the bedsheets
in my sternum, adjust pillows, i let you
simmer into me slow. 
you look soft.
you slide soft.
i arch,
feel like mother earth swallowing you up.
like fertile ground,
like female ground.
  we brew peach tea and i 
throw the shutters open,  
air the house out.