Breed Me
My sweat soaked the sheets.
You used to be like everyone else
but then
the way you hurt me (fingers, teeth):
I grew accustomed to it
then I craved it
then I got bored
and other men tried to put death into my mouth.
Angelic Richie with bite marks
in such a clean room.
I deplore clutter but I do like flowers.
A tall drinking glass filled with peonies
the color of underwear.
I like hard and classical.
The ceiling black like Caravaggio’s wine.
Through the blinds, obscure gods shined,
making the outlines of my body
a kind of emptiness.
The ceiling fan
pushed heat around
even though it was snowing outside.
You forgave
my love of surfaces.
It’s not a tragedy we couldn’t have a child.
I had a pain inside me
and I needed you to deepen it.
