Desire for Culprits
It was far too broken
At this time in the morning
In the super gloom of the prom
To smell my lap or where she
Asked if I could have tattoos
Of the small of her back:
Ricochets of orbiting hairless
Ponies with all my faults
In a gray silhouette of a perfect circle.
It had to be the light, the pleasant
Airplanes, the transparent figures
Not exiting at the same time,
The presupposing Easter segment
Inside indifferent bed and wife:
Happy, jagged, shirtless, my desire
For you to keep rearranging yourself
In each alpine desire for a naked cyst.
Inside the decomposing babies
The fruiting close bodies quickly grow back.
art by caro-ma