i don’t want the sunspots anymore.
i want the vicious: the tongue
and its relentless prodding
the hands, the groping.
i have dreamt of the ripping,
of the smoke that stains my taste buds.
i watched the smile and the arch
of your spine. i have wanted
nothing more than to pull
that carnivorous animal
your clenched teeth exposed you as
into the light. let my fingertips
bring out the rising god
in your blood cells. let me smear
the scent of it on my body
and call myself clean.
