Wednesday, November 14, 2012

leda 3

a personal note (re: visitations)

always pyrotechnics
stars spinning into phalluses
of light, serpents promising
sweetness, their forked tongues
thick and erect, patriarchs of bird
exposing themselves in the air.
this skin is sick with loneliness.
you want what a man wants,
next time come as a man
or don't come.


written by:
Lucille Clifton