in my bed a vandal
in my bed a vandal
first draft
i refuse these hundred nighttime hellos
this nighttime flesh and flesh and flesh
the morning brings a half-heart
and one hundred mouths i cannot know, saying:
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
in my bed a vandal, an angel, a thief
who each night takes my tired eyes
who thrashes me tender in the floodwaters
who has flesh, is flesh, always needs more-fresh, bruised, faithful, sore-more, more
who, coveting more ravaged flesh, pulls in the neighbor: a challenge, a threat
who chews through tooth, through tendon and fat
to feed on the core
in my bed a vandal, an angel, a thief
singing a honey-mouthed hallelujah
pulling me tightly to her soft sweet neck
i eat everything but her dewy pores
i wake up blind, blessed
everything good about the morning
lying under me kissed
sunlight through the blinds
articulates her ribs and
her hair and the sheet that skirts her leg
everything good about the morning
kissed and sore
Copyright © 2011 Andrew Wever.