Bust of palm spent. Thrust against your back, bent
in your ass. Slap-on jeans drawn down. Bourgeois
passions. Old tongue. In Hayeren I meant:
Vo’chinch. I meant: Nothing. Comme ci. Comme ca.
Maybe good. Maybe bad. So so. Drained. Gushed.
That pause. I could stop. We could stop. Say: slow.
O ho. Or: more. Or say: gore left me flushed.
Gore left you hushed, waiting for the deathblow
from a fuck to give off more than obscene
relief. Is it enough? you ask. My chill.
Your heat. Perhaps. Enough to make us cum
in fire, ash. Don’t begrudge carnage between
us. Don’t cuss hard love. It’s still love: the thrill
of your dizzy tizzy, your ill tantrum.
][][
NOTE:
Hayeren is the term that Armenians use for their own language and, “Vo’chinch,” is an expression that literally means, “nothing,” but is used in the same way that the French use, “comme ci comme ca” — neither good nor bad, it just is.
