He bathes for me
on the tops of mountains
under full moon sky fire.
He pulls off clothes for me.
He raises legs and points and curls, and points and curls, and points and curls his toes,
an arabesque,
honey blue music drag, naked,
deep dances under
My bare hand holding him,
on dark corners, his night beauty spilling
rubies from his veins and repairing contracts torn
and tossed from my table.
No comments:
Post a Comment