After
the dream
devours me,
the eyetooth
punctures flesh
like ripe fruit,
taut resistance,
a gasp of pain and,
then the shocked
silence of torn
skin.
After
my pores
open as one,
relinquishing
their burdens on
clean sheets that bind
and cling now with the
pernicious embrace of
lovers frightened by
loss.
After
the spasms
of laboured pleasures,
the muscular battle fought
through the heaviness
of sleep and the thick
darkness of a humid
night.
After
the shadows
of wrought iron
etched by the moon
on the uneveness of
an old plastered wall
in a strange room
the ghostly cast
of you is
blue.