Better Than Money

     Pain laid its lips on my chest,
kissing my Kevlar like a bullet
     that arresting moment he
shot my heart his glance and I could see

     no one else but him, seconds
before he convinced me to give up
     what fortress stronghold only
my solitude could keep, freeing me

     from what I was wrong to hold;
wanting no longer to be alone,
     atonement took nudity’s
form, eyes climbing every wall, we

     fought hesitation through night,
falling only once, as though through ice;
     disconcertingly heavy,
silence rescued us from questions, seas

     of them flooding in none had
ever questioned for some reason, cracks
     in their logic pulling deep
everyone but us into sleep,

     rising above nodding crowds,
his glance sounded a signal so loud
     I followed, falling to knees
to swallow what no law allows, seed

     obsolete preachers told us
that god, imitating Nature, had
     in fact intended to keep
breasts or cunts wet, sweet nectar men weep

     for necklaces and births, not
for pleasure, thirst, or anything else,
     and so I seditiously
devoured his, taking in every

     drop as I smiled, taking what
I could of his widest inches, fat
     and throbbing, his pulse hurried
through him that night he took my worries,

     drowning them in love his hands
could not have made come, nor would again;
     his kiss tasted of what my dirty
Italian said was, ‘better than money.’