April 16, 2014

NaPoWriMo 2014 #12

'Nude torso with Venetian Carnival Mask'
a photo by Graham Lowe ©

Carnaval y patrón mi prostituirse

inside the patterns
I find no fence works

she was trimmed
goddess Brazilian
maybe she was Columbian
I lose sight of maps
and wanting knowledge
when blinded by this kind of mania
I can barely disguise
my intentions with a purposeful scent

I wanted the graceful
easy poison of her dark eyes
the dangerous smiles
the turn hands
each framed moment
when I am another
drink and task
she cups herself with
full of wax and wane
crescent thumb-nails and
dark dollop-y new night skies

here is where
I pay to be worn down
with what I crawl through

wading into
how she waits
for my immutable
laughter and
to become 
the mask


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