Old Winds

yes

i enjoy the power struggle
when i'm half-undressed
twilit stress
and tiny entwined leaves of our flesh

tattoos all stripped off
and washed away inside sheets
i've kissed cheeks
in vast canola fields and back seats--

so many lovers i've seen pass.
a stones throw from streets to glass, passed
adult-sized notes in highschool geography
class

i find the dance so fascinating--
all germs and mouths and dreams just ossilating
in
canyons of nickel-loves
(we are convinced should be degrading)

but inside i feel the steps are slowly changing.
the dance of lip-bit love all rearranging.

not so strangely i guard my moon when
i see it fading.
frayed 'round edges from summer frictions reckless staining.


lovers; wear your hearts like children.
the thrill bargains between soul-building and quiet clinic killings.
yes,
bodies are made finely for fulfilling.
but used like water glasses
incessantly spilling.

o, milky-eyed dears beware:
like you, i've played unfair
i don't care's swapping seats like musical chairs
except,
i lost a fairy.

for days, these insides were swearing
wearing but guilty gowns and a hot
summer despairing.

my body is a museum of these breif loves
gut-filled gifts to strangers
inviting surgical gloves
so

lovers feed your love like your children.
for each each fancied fuck
fucked up enough to pull
gold fillings

it is the season for drilling.
and now it's hard to find these old winds fulfilling.