Poem 3

For this assignment, we were supposed to write about something erotic.  For reasons too numerous to go into here, I’m not really good at that sort of thing.  I was stuck.  So, I went to a friend, explained my problem, and she said, “So why not write about how you can’t write about it?”  Did I mention that this friend is pretty smart?

 

Subversion

I tried to write about your lips

overripe like strawberries

 

But all I could see is lipstick smeared

like cabernet slashes across your face

 

Your hands drew pictographs

in champagne condensation

 

Translucent screams for eyes

that look at everything but see nothing

 

silken ties bound tightly as burlap

–prettiness still chafes —

 

And the gilded bed is a lie you told yourself

to keep from drowning

 

The matchstick flared, scratching echoes

in otherwise stillness

 

The sulfur fucking ozone

thunderclouds behind your eyes

 

Blind you with lightning flashes in the

rearview mirror as you choke on

 

Chemicals masquerading as

Sandalwood air freshener

 

The only connection to actual

wood was the tree shape it assumed.

 

Your lips are parts of my face

–together we scream

 

This isn’t hyperbole

This is memoir

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