mblush

i shall caress
the total mess
you are and kiss
your inclination to impress
me with your careless-
ness.

until last night
i hadn’t tasted
anything outside
the body of christ.
and oh i must confess i am converted.

your hands are filthy
with the manness i want
against my womanhood. touch
my silk china dirty, mark it
with the distinction
of used things.

now memory
does not satisfy.
now imagination
will not melt words in
my mouth. my lines are
weak, i play with speech where
letters and their accents won’t
repeat what really went
betwee…

the gas station
shook when we stepped on its grease-
cricles and danced because
the moon was as full
of milk as we.