by Deborah Corso
(02/11/04)
he's a moody little stoner
with a temper unsurpassed
integrity, his dinosaur
yet when he beckons
I am Pavlov's whore
his opiated essence, dire karma
cloaked in smokey ecstasy
sucks me deeper into his darkness
and one cannot fathom why
I come like thunder in the sun
when loving him is death personified
raspy voice and bloodshot eyes
open windows to a vacant soul
smooth, hard chest -- a harder cock
remind me of 10,000 ways to love
something I can only fuck
the bell tolls silent echoes
my swollen rose's blossom fades
hips swagger slightly against the sunset
where I commit these treasons
and walk away from someone that I loved
for mostly chemical reasons.
The Poet's Companion - by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux