There is a kick-ass myth
I want to mine with you
I want to dig deep into
a seam of sex-lexemes
and come up smiling
covered in snow
to roll my tongue (our tongues)
around each near-synonym in turn
let’s be sex-Eskimos and have
a hundred words for fuck
you pick whether we are
Yupik or Inupiat
I’ll lick Kalaallit or Sirenki
and together we’ll dig igloo-blocks
from each fuckdrift
later we can argue over
what makes a word a word
but for now
I want your qana to fall upon me
or your aput to search
for warmth in my cold
to feel your piqsirpoq pile up
in my qimuqsuq deeper and profound
and oh-so-fucking-plumbed
it’s such a man thing
to have a single word
such a woman thing
to have a hundred
I am an Eskimo for sex
does that make me a bad person
baby?











37 old applause
