Tuesday, September 13, 2016

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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