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.