Friday, March 2, 2018

Previously Published on The Camel Saloon . . .

Reaping Imaginary Riches

Even in the darkest room
more than your shadow
finds me.  Cloaked in nothing
more than simple
subservient sin.  I am
shaded and layered
to your hands' liking.
Together they/we are
a puzzle game dream.  In this
midnight's holding:

Turn one:  our every piece is a step.
Flop two:  our every step is a gamble.
Fold three:  our every gamble is a touch.
Set point match:  Connection is complete

ly irrelevant as we raise
everything but our minds.  Temperament
al misogyny is our latest god.
We worship on our knees.
Our needs soaking the floor
of this make-shift temple
that no longer resembles
any form[al/of] bed.


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Previously Published in Epigraph . . .

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