and in the dark, stand I
digging deep a glass of scotch -
mad with love - the virus, all
that is alush in man
the whelk to my mussel, sit I
in voiceless fits and attacks
in graceful degradation, consumed
by no mere abluvion
cello, veil and unveil
the hidden tender, flesh of
so many wants and wishes, ablush,
tentacles about the female
flute, warp and weft:
my timbre, the sound
of one voice laughing,
one mind knowing :
this Eve will not wash off
Author notes
...she's gone.
Comments
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whoa.
I love the way you use line breaks. This almost gallops, gives me a hitch in the chest like I've run a long way.
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