Each conical day
she stood at the tip
at the hype of the lust
pouring graffiti on my heart.

Drumbeats thrum in my fever-bowl brain
like a millionaire's fingers
spending my breaths, scarlet and blue
velvet on bone
yearning so
pressed with aches.


I scrubbed
in white foam
the skin off the bone
of her fragile veneer

she dipped
my lacerations
in the sneering salt
of the Autumn sea

we folded up
the other's muffled
yes yes yells
in desire-riddled quilts

thin breaths
we shared
of lust
in the secrecy of sand dunes
pouring
sex sweat
on our diminishing hopes.

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