dark heat, erotic poetry, furies, knee-deep in lust, low ache, monsoon, poem, sonnet
I, too, can’t sleep. I, too, dress in dark heat
and take a walk. Somewhere a jukebox croons.
Somewhere two kids fumble in the backseat
of her daddy’s clunker. Rain soon. Monsoons.
I love those kind of hurried fucks. Hoping
you won’t get caught. Hoping the seat won’t smell
of cum after. But … that need. Me needing
you. I can taste you in the air. Motel
neon. Passing cars. I can taste your need
all the way out here. How do people sleep
when such furies run through them? That low ache.
The sky’s violent passion. Love gone frenzied.
Scent of a wounded night. I walk, knee-deep
in lust. Drops fall but the heat doesn’t break.