Breech
mixed up motion makes up speech
the internal boundaries are hard to breech but the external are just within reach
to grasp and clasp and stroke and
suck and suck and suck and
lucky leeching blood on our foreskins,
looking fore-ward we want in
tune with sighs and soliloquies, waiting
waiting, stills the breeze
of an evening spent in
another’s seat climbing up dangerous feet,
tickle, curdle, curl, caress
its a happy happy sensual mess of
undress
regress
readdress.
The morning lying in someone’s arms,
searching for your hands behind their
fingers wet with sweat.
The pheromones are not your own and your hormones
remain in rain of the thicket thrush you walked through
to find thorns on your feet, fingers
laced behind her back
bra bracing, body racing, a fast flash.
A night surprise, not to be surmised or
Sculpturized. Don’t sensualize,
scrutinize the other who exists in the same
name, end game of
gambling limbs and gangling grotuities.
Gargoyles were made with principles and purposes
and you,
you were made in the melody of droning mystery menagerie.
Her lingerie feels good on your twinkling toe,
Big as the moon on a haphazard night.
