Monday, September 28, 2009

Out of the Ashes XXIV: A Poem

he experienced
the whole thing
in a dim room, and--
as always--it starts with a dame.

in the shadows, the most curvaceous
temptress whispered lasciviously,
reclining like a Titian
in the bowl . . .
"eat me,"
and, oh,
she was
juicy to the core.

planting the remains
by moonlight
seemed almost a sacrament
to mark that sweetness
forever in the small rites
that made up
his life.

in later years
in that city, lovers
would--when departing
temporarily from
one another's company--
exchange the word
like a wet kiss.

1 comment:

Grendel said...

A poem from the notebook i began after moving to the Bronx in the wake of the housefire in Jersey.