Learn The Dark
the streets where I wonder if
my former lovers feel my
planetary pull. I am trapped between
two moons: you tell me if I were a man
and you were a woman you’d
let me touch your body tonight. I feel
my own fish squirming, and
your hands, batwings, pulse and
we don’t touch.
I go to the graveyard searching for meaning.
I go to hear all the death: little Eliza Olin, gone
since 1832, and me so alive; I must spook her.
—body noise: breath moving liquid.
And I hear all the life:
the orgasms blinking outward
like rescue signals at dawn. Men fucking
by the precious headstones of the orphans.
A slip, a grind, a burn, okay—
Only when I am this thirsty do I
drink the spit of strangers. Later, I
dreamt your wet stretches
of saliva fell into me; you
let the bulbs burn out, opened
your mouth, and let me learn the dark.