lovers...

a contradiction always, your beauty,
my sandpaper tongue…how it ravishes you.
you demand imperfection…
love with a hole in it,
a great vacuum-centered release.
nails with no pain,
no power to hold…
to rip the cat off your back.
i relegate you to fours,
you flip me mid-air on the way down;
i never reach the top…

our stairs lead to hell;
we never use them except to escape
the ice-water shock.
your bird mouth, omnipotent,
waits on the cat that stalks you.
it is only a giant pit where you fall…
as you clench it hermetically
in determined repentance,
until the snake tongue calls you
to siphon kindness you dole in unequal proportions.

the great caw has suffered credulity…
it is empty…it no longer feeds you.
the crows have flown into the winds,
into blight, into obscurity.
we meet like shears in the garden,
sensing vulnerability,
knowing the braille grass will cover our tracks,
knowing we can only love each other,
we eat our hate…

lovers...soliloquies
ja allen