MORE THANyou sleep with me
like a child. i cannot sleep from discovering your eyes are cornflower blue uncommon. you are new, two handsbreadths more than the man i loved before you. might i love you more because i like the smell of you better? (i come easy when you call sweet-pungent animal.) we love milk to the same degree. might you love me better? i lie here delicate against your substantial and contemplate the Chaos Theory explaining our intersecting because this morning those Venn diagrams didn't.
BLACK + WHITEi cannot love you more
than this page of words that will stay long after i forget the slant of your face. it will weaken me with unblinking black and white stares: the naked strength of the truth of our moments.
we meet at your kitchen table
like knife and fork unwitting, moving food to mouth in civil eating. my body is fed with more than bread. my life comes from what's in your head, feeding me past the emptiness of plates, i am: full before they're empty, sucker for mind-blowing things.
BLOODyou will surrender when i say
i want lip service. i mean read my lips, they are the colour of your blood. of any man's alive. and man & man will shoot each other dead with gun when i put on my lipstick. these lips are news: blood-red they drip and you drop dead and everybody cries murder when it was suicide, lips out of sync.
NOWnow memory
does not satisfy. now imagination will not melt words in my mouth. my lines are weak, i play with speech where letters & their accents won't repeat what really went between us when we kissed.
INCLINATIONi shall caress
the total mess you are and kiss your inclination to unimpress me with your careless -ness.
DIRTY
your hands are filthy
with the manness i want against my womanhood. touch my silk china dirty, mark it with the distinction of used things.
GREASE
your leather jacket has eaten
me. consumed me so i no longer remember things besides meeting you in a packed, merry place run by mechanical strangers. you threw me in your black open car, smelt the leather of my shoes. how the sidewalk shook when we stepped on its grease circles and danced because the moon was as full of milk as we.
YESTERDAYyesterday the song
you wrote and sang for me tore through my dress. and there i was again with you, in dearest spaces in certain rooms and streets. your smell in my hair, my bed, my skin. my mouth pressed on your chest, sweet mouth on your belly and below. pink skies and purple flowers fell on us in your mother's garden where we got scared because we'd touched the holy grail. jesus, what if it slipped and broke?
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© MAGDALENE CARMEN
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