Love Nest

By popular demand…sorry, mom.

love nest

As a means to redeem (or quite possibly further bury) myself, here are some old poems of mine that are somehow fitting…though his robe is not.

Porking

Sex is not silvery slender.

 

It’s bulbous,

sweats.

 

We do it under

a moonstruck moon.

 

Otherwise

it’s the same chow pigs do.

 

 

Boning

Soft,

 

though we like to pretend.

 

Collide spryly,

that class has done wonders.

 

I wonder at the grinding hinges.

 

Ribs must lust after tibias,

femur after fibula—despite

skeletal incest.

 

Slim-pickin’s for them lonely bones.

 

There’s so much pink that divides us.

 

 

Screwing

No, no, you are not meant to turn it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s