I dreamt of a graveyard
being forested over with
saplings growing more underground
than above the crowd of

tombstones the tempestuous breath
of silence knocked down, sucking the
globes of toes as though they
were grapes, rapacious roots

threading thirsting ways between shades,
hasting to Hades, we wanted
to anthropomorphize
energy so we called

it god, dragging our light
into the dark, absolving our
Selves of only the worthiest
responsibility:

to treat everyone else with
dignity we sacrifice as
the cost for seeing what
lurks behind our hearts, yet

adept as I am, proficient
in untangling its myriad
intricacies, a sage
initiated in

the deepest mysteries
of language, words have had their way
with me, failing me today in
my flagrant craving of

somehow conveying to you with
subdued grace, sophistication,
and eloquence what I
have no better phrase to

say, how badly I want your tongue
in my mouth, having almost to
shout it to get it out,
this fantasy of mine

in which we both speak in silence
what secret lovers acknowledge,
irrespective of one’s
country or creed, is that

need no word can suffice
to translate into speech, I am
thirsty, a ravenous bitch in
heat, underdogmatic

iconoclassicist hungry
for a kiss, starving for your seed,
tell me please, Babe, am I
crazy: is it really

ecstasy or is it only
epilepsy when I convulse
like this, wanting you to
bust and satiate your

Self inside of me every
last damned chance you can get?