We spoke, I recall not one word, a laughter and the rhythm to her voice
The taut skin in the knuckles of her hands
Her lips red wrapped round a curse
The tilt of her neck below the ears.
-Walk with me-
She tipped her mouth, I dipped my head
raised her shirt, stole her breast, nub of earth flushed warmth
Swinging even, each the others hip, we walked and
I could have made a scarf of her she ebbed and flowed off of me so.
This cell, somewhere, looks to the sea, can’t sleep, sleep won’t show, I call to you, talk with myself, sleep won’t show talk to myself
I can’t explain, try, cannot, try.
Bothersome bothering bothersome, unlooked for, I see her, she’s not there
Feel her, here in my stomach, my stomachs empty, I feel her slivering inside me, shivering me. I remember and remember the yielding shy and sure, the hum of her belly sweep of her arms, rub of her skin, her back, the trust in her embrace the fear and hurt of her, her tide.
I call to her when sleep will not cover me, reach for the touch of her when morning stirs to wake me. I know her, believe in her, she’s a stranger to me not strange.
I know here, I don’t know her at all. I feel her, see, here in my belly, here in the shade of my fingers and the hum of her pressed to me, the hum and the frailty.
Talk, talk with myself till sleep came sideways and I woke in this room, the light against night still on. I awake out from a sleep shy night into a sun blasted morning and I feel you, want to ring you, I don’t, call you, I don’t, push kisses into you, roam over you, make a laughter far in the insides of you, have you blushed breathless, catch you up, unfurl you, growl throughout you, see you pressed flat and soaking, wanting no more kisses, wanting more kisses, wanting no more kisses.
I watch you in sleep sticky and full, your hand puts me inside of you and I move on to you wet and wet and wet.
Be still hush be still, you’re breathing out and back, low and hum, arms and legs damp and pointed, the shrubbery of you, the days heat and dripping rains. Beside me at back of me, flung long all the skin and limbs of you, knotted here, planed there, swallows now dip and pool, the breadths of you cover me and I fold my heart to pump along my thumb and your neat creased fingers in among the fingers and callused travelled pad of my right hand, honey twinkling sticky muck I drop to the scald and wet of you.
Sleep to me, the smell of me on the breadth of your heart, my neck so kissed, chance blessed in this embrace.
I sleep to you.
I will kiss you every morning and hug you till you are full, put laughter in your eyes and at the corners of your lovely mouth, love you till your body sighed and skin shone, encourage and support you, fight and win anything or one who hurt or tries to hurt you, give you stuff you have not got and show to you what little I know or learn, make such days and nights for you, you’ll rush through sleep to wake, build for you a place for you to hang your things, go to your church and kneel with you, care for and love you in sickness and in health, blow and blow the ashes from your heart and give to you a love that laughs and is strong as strong and warm and tender and wicked.
Late to the morning I woke, the paste of her gummed and clung to me. I called for her. I called more. She had left. Written words for me.
-I am twenty-nine years old, many boys and men inside of me. Some I welcomed, more I did not, in they came with trickery and cunning, the rest used force and terror . My friend, my love I have no memory of the words you spoke that lent me into your embrace here in this street, your right hand lifted my shirt and dip you did your mouth, took my breast quick as swallows fall. My love my friend, many before you. My love my friend, I wanted you, puddled for you. My love my friend, listen. I tell you. You are the first to make love to me and I have stolen from you, words and trust, you fed me your heart through your mouth and cock, I washed over you, you drank from me, my love my friend I have betrayed you.
At rest this night a stretch from sleep, I pick over the corpse one short time more. This corpse is laid, dreadful worms of past. I remember, must remember, journeys do end in finish, voyages stop, amputated limbs round to stump. Hush then hush inside the alone flat of night, a promise and wish and frightened hope that tomorrow and after, no matter, I extract this corpse, a dull weight that’s been my familiar, I wish this amputation complete. Knife, light, just so I evolve.
I smashed each chair, table, cup and every plate and saucer, first in rage, then careful,
cracking and wrenching wood off of nails bewildered, more and more lonely than a lunatic. I love her and her image I bite my hand. Kneeling on this house’s cement floor, naked in debris, her fine weather dress split open off my shoulders, shards of crockery and glass slice my feet and knees swollen, bleeding and grieving.
Can’t find you. Flicking at my memory, disappearing faces, I remember and remember, cry and walk away, hug the walls of rented rooms and cry, weep and walk, I can’t find one moment of ease, comfort, warmth, I moan and tremble a stretch from sleep, ill darkness stalking me, deaths breadth goose steps, bumps and clatters down my back, behind my knees. I twist in sheets, washed sparse, of twin fibres sorrow and regret, regret and sorrow, spiders click and sew, I clench my teeth and ball my fists, water thunders out my eyes. I watch my body glow with hunger, eyes grown huge in my retreating face. Her handsome show stopping head tilted so, the veins of her neck thrusting with a life offered up, the heat of her inner arm above the wrist, one embrace one kiss, trust me, she left.
This love to scab hard and cold, cemented shut and that beggar death clicks the railings all along.
Too far, you have gone too far. Plucked the dawn from out my sky.
Left me here, a black Eskimo out of season.