Monday, July 10, 2006


I shout I love you when you sing
"O My Darling Clementine"
in an incestuous moment
that reminds me of my father
while in a sanctuary of bass drumming
Savannah ritual your rat-a-tat
heartbeat makes my lips quiver,
your broken poetry sliding
like a tear down my thigh.

Meanwhile you write of a woman on traintracks.
I see the soul of the rope and its pain
as it's tied in knots by the river
before being criss crossed over her nipples.

Then there's the way you say baby like crystal
without bubbles and the plexiglass
between mine and yours melts
like it's laying in desert sun
where I drink you like dromedaries do-
filling their humps.

I pierce you, my finger a bayonet
in your somnolent torso, weary like me,
hoping you pour out more for us to float on.

You the gondolier guiding me as I surround
your Venecian boat vessel.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

just terrific, christine.

Monday, July 17, 2006 6:12:00 PM  
Blogger Plus Ultra said...

Last two lines, very strong, beautiful imagery that takes the poem to it zenith, lovely

Friday, August 04, 2006 9:56:00 AM  

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