Serengeti

Your body is something we do not speak about even though I have lapped from it deranged its hairs a threat a covenant of rain     I have held you inside-out inverted Pieta cradling the crooked head in the back of my throat so that even the doctor ejaculated how the illness left its traces the same creeping hues a sunrise deploys before conquering a desert entirely     I showed you the paperwork as if it somehow justified us spending a night with rocks between us blockades or barriers to obscure the middle ground where we overlap iteratively contaminating until again you fuck me flimsily

Your body is something we do not speak about even though it is an itch banging him the tent-flap barely concealing the act     I have felled you upside down in the valley’s lisp where rocks are as ill as leaves and the sun steals all color from your skin descending downward     in the waiting room uncertain who the patient is the forms blanks reminding us what your body is capable of if I touch it here if I tongue it there     a nurse says something about sand strains stripes serotypes      I recall you coming bit-lipped me gazing upward at photos framing your spoils from the Serengeti

Your body is something we do not speak about even though I have caught you in the act your face shrouded Tuareg-style all its serrated edges bandaged     I have long given up accusing you but the emaciated trees never cease their chattering diagnosing balled prophesying letting bones shatter so bloodily     when we are out of this I will invent a nickname for you that shall with each utterance turn your balls blue     I wait in rooms now that are makeshift labyrinths overhearing the sounds of sex covered by winds many deserts employ to shroud such secrecies

Your body is something we do not speak about even though it has sullied mine my desire for you the white skin lining a parched gullet     where once there were trees there are now rooks where once there was desert there are now mementos into which I will never figure framed or otherwise     if I kiss you will you destroy me again a creak as the flap flies upward two men emerging with the sun sticky between them trousers sleek with semen     if he ever prayed as I preyed on you I wouldn’t wonder what germs he knew scattered stamens snapping intransigent autumns branding us castrati

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