holding a prayer close to my cold chest, i have put my lips on roses that do not open their buds, and cheeks that do not reach to meet my sutured-smile of hope for love, and all that yields to its touch,
it’s a liberation of a sky riddled with mist to shine through, and carry the kernels of a belated sun in its womb, as if a strange specimen of breath, finding it hard to hold
on to for a sympathetic spring of acceptance, of unhindered rising, and a welcoming sight of truth, of places & people, i can call home.
your hands caressing my throat like it is your own,
gentle but rough, little by little, angling to my form and function, fever-fervent and fastidious,
the calluses of your palm with a tight- en-ing resolve, recovering spaces between my hefty breaths, the carotid pumping faster for relinquishing control over life-lines,
your eyes penetrating my mind in an inebriated fullness, the hourglass, broken, the vagaries of time forgotten in its absurd arbitrariness,
— i seek you, i need you, i want you —
i want the length of you against the girth of me, the walls to be torn off, and the electricity to wreck my anatomy — my red lips chapped and bloodied to your mouth’s savagery,
pick up my pieces, and claim the night before it scatters to the winds, and hum the dirge of this happening, and moan as if this ache is all that is, this wound is all that we carve and draw from each other —
purple-bruised, volt-blue on a soft-brown skin merging into the skin of all things, submerging into a spell of an age-old (lost) modus-operandi, for consumption,
— death, little by little, living, by dying a little more, and collapsing into heaps of shins and skins, bones and beings, and to forget that it ever existed —
this venerable malady of sex and grandiosity, till loss is the only desire, the only particle left of me.
For my Guest Post/Prompt at dVerse to be published later today; I am entreating the poets to explore the idea and theme of desire & sexuality in poetry, especially through the perspectives of gender and sexual minorities. Also linking it up with the Tuesday Platform at With Real Toads.
Image source (Neck / Livingston, 1988 by Robert Mapplethorpe)