Tuesday, 31 August 2010


Your mouth sounds dry
Now the cries have subsided;
Now that ecstasy has tested your saliva’s ability
To fill it,
And has eventually
Swilled away your words.

I wish I could water it for you again;
Make rain drain down the gutters of your tongue;
Plunge from your lips
And get my skin wet
Your dripping sentences.

But your words are stuck to my fuck billed face
And the taste of them is leaking from my cheeks
To my throat,
And coating the sheets
With sleet
That blends with my sweat.

I wish you could lean over me and lick up your last
Spitten pips from the rest of my neck and sprinkle them,
Inch by inch,
Into my own pinched speech,
And teach me how
To revive you more quickly,

For I want you to be as thick with me as I am with you;
I need you to know how much your noise means to me when
You’re poised on the edge of heaven’s
Best kept secrets,
And how your strength
Drenches me.

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