seeking jazz or sex or soup
alone. without
my lover who’s come
to bear another
game of
solitaire
a hyper-primal fight
on repeat, his
and ours, chain-linked by
insignificances and
my tawdry
ideals. shedding the
emotional attachment–a
security blanket or
dead skin cells,
translucent
and webbed–
burning away,
the grit clinging to
a sappy log fire,
weeping while
mental anguish channels
through my limbs like
a vase of
water satiating stems of
blooms, the fresh
flora sprouts; but
naught to him–
this temple, these limbs.
Seeking jazz or sex or soup –
that brassy sax
solo
the lusty sex before
solitary sleep
a hearty six
course meal for
one
hot and
steamy or cold
either way by
choice
alone.
– 2007