Friday, March 25, 2011

Dumpsters of Flesh

he woke up on a loading dock 
at the heel end of the city

amazed that it still worked
he had never once found himself so
un-clutched from her from Lucky

they were kids or just believed

he thought what a length to sweep
it needed it should he ask
and who to make money
five dollars he thought
and where was she?
Lucky
was she simply forgotten?

****                       ****
I remember her rolling over
me pulling on me
putting me upwards beneath and into her
taking my wrists and swinging my arms
like we were flying
our skin tight 
bodies wreathing
in flooded pleasures

and our long burning tongues
moving deep into
the dumpsters
of our flesh



4 comments:

Linda said...

This is simply beautiful and sad. It makes me feel sad, and that is what poetry should be about--making one feel. But then what do I know. Regardless, I like this a lot.
Thanks,
Linda

Arian Tejano said...

"our long burning tongues
moving deep into
the dumpsters
of our flesh"

This is exquisite as it adds an earthly romantic element to the whole piece.

amstothers said...

Beautifully written. Erotic and mysterious. :)

rivercat said...

this is wonderful and refrehing :)