MMXXV

Snow Blanket.

Everything frozen I turn to rock
Crease of tequila eyes in snow-bounced light
Only possibilities I ruminate

The list of your transgressions I write
I retreat a thousand ways as punishment trial by characters typed

Neither alchemy nor by forged fire I am bronzed saint
My fingers numb and stone, my loin warms, my core is tin
My skin dry to winter’s nagging, my chest fills with the rush of fear
My pulsing penis spitting puddles of confusion

Does it make me a brave climber
To want to know where you go
To type with my tongue
To borrow a voice and a face
Waiting to eat your skin?

Does it make me
eat myself?

(Ode to Jia Sung from her XXII. Furnace)