i. (I’ll Show You) Mine
Sparks of compliments fly from your tongue
like songs thrown from a silversmith’s blunt
hammer, puns hitting my ear, thunder
to drum, as your dulcimer whispers
run barefoot along my neck, their path
wet from that superlative swiftness
your lips fit into my interest,
such sly conquest how so oyster-slick
a mind slips-on charm like a habit
you don, a monk less a brother and
more of a lover, asking me to
undress, a little sacrilege an
acceptable risk as, with an act
of contrition and a subtle kiss,
you strip from my head its restrictive
influence over my heart, ‘What it
wants, it wants,’ echo your chants as it
walks through oppressive wilderness you
“get” as, without questioning its pain,
or explaining love’s failed attempts, I
let this timid muscle, no bigger
than a fist, vanquish inhibitions
and for once, just live without shame’s guilt.
ii. (Show Me) Yours
‘Let us compare anatomies,’ you’d
said, ‘Since Life asks us its meaning, how
about seeing if we’d be sleeping
with its enemies, before splitting
open atoms and deceiving this
existence of ours with more questions
than answers,’ is how you’d convinced me,
universal appeal to ideals
replacing, rather than smashing, those
idols of mine I’d held dear, with thrusts
your tempestuous mouth serviced quick,
dropping spells from gin-dry lips, deluge
drips bewitching my hips with lightning
hints, venom spit from the blind scion
of some Eden’s defiant serpent,
whiplashes of wit as you’d condemned,
to its bottomless pit, the myth that
you’d commit to no one but your Self,
wrapping around me instead as you
fingered my neck, massaging from my
throat every kink I’d neglected
to let out, rubbing to blush-red burst
a climax of words thirst encouraged.