It’s a weird world. She tells me of a date
and how later they both fornicated.
Yeah, that’s the word that she used, “fornicate,”
one of the ugliest words to describe naked
lust, sex magic, lucid pleasure. But she’s
foreign, recently dead and her English
broken. What do I know? I lost the ease
of my tongue when I passed, too. Her anguish
and fear with sex, especially anal,
remains, bit daft, since she’s lost her booty.
She’s more mist, more soul made froth. You living
call lust sin; but if you’re not a lustful
soul death tends to be … shocking. Poor banshee,
love won’t hurt you. That’s what death is: loving.