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.