Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Illusion


The Illusion


You punish me to provide
a spectacle of excess—tamp

my testicles with affirmations
of your power. Your mannequins blow

and breathe urgency
like naked bald-hydras morgue

between Santiago and Lima
where desert sands are voiceless.

What is different between us
is the intensity of our attraction.

Oh, how many nooses
I've stretch around the necks of gigolos

at cul-de-sac social clubs
where cellos moan

and mouths wilt as I listen
to tangos and pick up sugar

dropped on the table
trying to ignore the blood
on my recently buffed shoes.

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