harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
i want to unmake it make it new with you again your mouth and mine a hybrid of past life where others' hands left bruises in the nooks and nape there was sorrow speckled on my tongue which felt my soul be swallowed whole by the weight of what i knew when an alien pressed his fingers to the edges then the insides of my knickers and i could but watch over his shoulder the light of the bar and pretend that i was away from me when nails scratched and knuckles grazed and i glazed blinked blindly blue at the ceiling. please put me to bed i can't stand the sound of their breaths swallowing me whole in my ear as you lay down next to me to pray that it was just a bad dream that the pillows were not putrid as decay as the plum tree that had been dying for decades long ago and how the bark turned grey and the bed covers were violated by their rays which were violet and violent as me. see the hurt you caused me the knife you twisted in my spine with each movement of the mouth tongue teeth chattered and lips layered on labia and your nose touched her cheek and each handful you took of them and the way each wrist writhed at their six sides and each push of the pelvis limbs latched lungs laboured love left us prostituted with each thigh you spread. i saw the broken infinity of when we were seventeen gleam in the dark under street lamplight though i was away from me in the nighttime my body only the carcass of it all as you walked me to the bus stop your mouth and mine a hybrid of past life where we had touched each other by the glow of an orange elephant tusk.
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