Coddy-moddy, fanny-nosh. The priest swore
it sin. Dickory-dock is prayer, I swear.

“I’ve done this,” you said. “I was ate before
I was seven.” You pouted: “No — not there.

Yes, like that.” I undid, unclasped, unbound.
I let fall until you stood stark in front

of the window. There are bodies hell-bound
in the dark that crave to be seen. Cock, cunt

and all-flesh in extreme. Who was the first
to want you? worship rough in your altar?

leave you sloppy? For years I was thirsty,
but then you found me and settled my thirst

— now I savor returning this favor,
this prayer, this sublime kiss that sets us free.