Gray billowsilk,
wriggle through my
temples and convolutions
a
monochrome snake,
acrylic.
Tongue me deep,
lung-ingly. With a
clockwise twirl
moonwalk me slow. Dance
on the floor in the
round
with me, darling.
Brush up against, all
around and around
me: Masonite man
quite clean. And—
Cover me thick! Skinned
with experience to think
and
tell about the town, “I’m Alexathymia’s ex!”
Thy art, already on my
breath.
And dirty, now
glowing. Me
in unshuckable color
of Eve, really fucking
fresh and wet and close
to the beginning.
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