poem: the city is my lover
The city is my lover,
her soft breaths stir me,
rising from the underground in gasps.
her body swells and recedes
in bridges and byways;
I have learned them all,
the hidden doors and secret streets of her self.
she welcomes me with widespread rain-wet arms,
opening, unquestioning.
This love is an affair, unknown;
the man who shares my bed does not see her touch me,
walks unaware beside me as the steam fingers of her subways slide between my thighs,
as the kisses of her breezes whisper past my throat.
he tastes her in my mouth and knows nothing,
suspects none of her scent and stain which has settled in the creases of my clothes.
I have long fled my lover, this city;
left behind her kiss and breath and dark streets.
I return in solemn penitence,
begging the blessing of her bridges;
she sighs and touches me and does not remember,
my lover, my city, is gone.
:shadowen:
her soft breaths stir me,
rising from the underground in gasps.
her body swells and recedes
in bridges and byways;
I have learned them all,
the hidden doors and secret streets of her self.
she welcomes me with widespread rain-wet arms,
opening, unquestioning.
This love is an affair, unknown;
the man who shares my bed does not see her touch me,
walks unaware beside me as the steam fingers of her subways slide between my thighs,
as the kisses of her breezes whisper past my throat.
he tastes her in my mouth and knows nothing,
suspects none of her scent and stain which has settled in the creases of my clothes.
I have long fled my lover, this city;
left behind her kiss and breath and dark streets.
I return in solemn penitence,
begging the blessing of her bridges;
she sighs and touches me and does not remember,
my lover, my city, is gone.
:shadowen: