Tenderness
You are a brave woman, not afraid of me I peel back your pink flesh as I thrust into You and You slap me with bitterly given forgiveness drink from the warm dark of your dying a green shoot curling into white I am folded into You and I thrill at the tearing though this hand on the pulse of your breast squeezing slow how I hate, which is your dying and which mine, I am talking of tenderness You never support me or some interim between pain and inflicting pain, the cruelty against myself violating You this brute who climbs my back my hand hard against your cheek I call him You Woman that blinds my eyes till I stumble and scrape cut knees, why must You who rides me and this sharp stone against I can’t see I am asking for your tenderness why do You leave me I could kill or the once touch soft in my memory why do You ride You dry and laugh to thrust knowing a hard awakening thrill to see the tears start in your sleep swollen eyes have hurt me, I am your husband riding You I am only asking for tenderness.
When Asking For Wings
In the impossible dance to conjure fretful wisdoms when poverty hangs our eyes for any dime of meaning on the pavement, trust your feet though You look down on them, the lowest know sometimes more for being low, go more sure for having nowhere but the grave to go trust what knows the ground and cannot leap but what it must return to earth it’s a small step from slugs thrown from the sea to Icarus. Expect to walk on water and if they amputate your legs and cut your stature trust to feel in those cold hours your stranger feet walking the moon.
