Tuesday, September 29, 2009


That subject line is not the title and does not imply a metaphor.


Thick as a kiss or a jerk
and orbiting that place
where it is not,
it carries its empty plexus
into your belly
in shove after shove
of broken sweetness.

A tumble of auburn crumbs,
a pouf of powder,
a flirt after the fact
when it has fallen
into leaden memory
of that mindless tryst
between bed and desk.

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