Thursday, July 20, 2006

her becoming

She stuns me
I am erased by her
fleeting bullets.

Orgasms bloom
the flesh dies

Her hands are hard
they pound
new arousals.

I feed Her chunks
of passion
newly butchered meat.

We are insatiable
the way
flowers are insatiable
for light

only Her light
is a darkly bruised radiance
out of which
my life emerges

one death at a time.