Returning to his Body - for Hamza
Returning
to his Body
The boy left
his cows
and came to
me,
what splendorous
rod,
how swift
and dark his stature,
what
swollen, slender nudity!
My
body, my labyrinth,
come call,
scold, hurt,
calm my
troubled slits.
Find me
clinging to your waist
orange blossom
in my mouth.
Before my eyes
a peal of freshness,
triumphant, passionate
confusion
emerges from his legs.
A sound as
tender as the wind
blowing through
the trees struck
my breast. We
were silent,
winners—losers,
cut
over rough
straws, him beside me,
my face
between his genitals ferocious.
He left his
cows,
copious
sweet wine,
and came to
me.
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