The simple splendor of my
infidelity caresses it in sweetness
and feeds me, as Tantalus,
its taste through the rain.
I dive into the sly,
liquid glass obscenities
to find a wordless poetry,
apocalyptic infinity,
escaping the stages,
transcending the eighth.
Arrive alive, the new slogan was
love me!
and I could see in their
eyes a need for a truth.
But all the possibilities
had already been labeled
as extreme right liberalism,
second only to “femi-nazis”
(when she steps away she
remembers the deadness
on her fingers and around
her face, remembers the
normality of pain, but for
all the truths in her staining
ink, she refused to remember
the necessity)
My secrets ravish me
with the dyes of their fruits
and when I sing myself to sleep,
rain clouds dance in the desert.