Thursday, March 30, 2017

When the World Reached a Different Age




When the World Reached a Different Age


I pin my astonishment to his lips.
His black elephant eyes bleeding.

I save the light from under his hair.
Sun. Shadows in his eyelashes

bandy like grapes of a winepress.
I rebuilt the fever, and sunset flutters

in his socks. Him, medium in years,
thirty-seven. I tumble off his neck

when under the briefs
two fragile ships begin to submit.

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