Move against me,
a need like mine,
tight spine curve twisting
like snakes on heated slate.
Strained with ease, a gasp,
the two halves of your ass,
the soft flesh that so I love
in my hands as my arms shake.
I can only smile and stare
at the frankly frightening
strength of you, so open to me,
slick, so very wet, as I’m honored
in this moment of sweat skin
on skin. Empty bellied,
I need a fill of glittered Eros
against a chic Thanatos
the world flaunts
like a runway model—
a pose I’ve cultivated
far too long, tending
a leafless garden,
tired stalks left to rust
into winter hollow reeds.
Brows creased and flesh
tasting dark like bruised roots,
the cold purple blood wrung
yet light and sharp as a sliver
slipped from this morning sky.
As I move again into the damp
wicker of your very center.