February 6, 2016

here, have a bite of me, too




here, have a bite of me, too

pour it into linger, think I said...

" were you singed dear? ", 

say something like, no not really any more 
clearly branded by the way your skin has raised and boiled
against me where the exhale of hot metal hid...were there 
messages of how far we were leaning in...

staccato poems known bones and 
suture councils, souls go leaping abyss, 
clutching handfuls of Autumn's last wheat 
left in the ground until just now...

was it picked to barter a better seat from those 
with whom an ice king might preside when Winter is riding, 
thorough and fare on wane...

even more though, 
as February turns 
command still, 
Winter does...

with more knives than all the teeth that have ever been for 
pasta al dente...so chew on the visage you want in the dark
and play the (imma gonna git me sum wautr) game...

you know the thirsty look by now...the hallways are marked
with arranged bones in tall pots that are carved to look like flowers...

you gather closer and hear me sing softly
smiling getting jiggy, jivey, jaunty too, trying to figure you out
just when the spirit gets inside...

"ciao bella how sweet swelling smell of you this Lupercalian fortnight..." 

the stars are scars 
what moments, we have or had 
crawling the clawing(s) across the sky 
we always order a night cap with dessert...
spit poems from every eye  
say no words, gift our limbs 
and sweaty noses 
slow tracing surrender(s)...


EJR ©

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