Loving Me With My Shoes Off Means

There Is A Good Look That I Wear Like A Blood Clot. I Have Sewn It Over My Left Breast. I Have Made A Vocation Of It.

I Am Stuffing Your Mouth With Your Promises And Watching You Vomit Them Out Upon My Face.

I Raise My Pelvis To God So That It May Know The Truth Of How Flowers Smash Through The Long Winter.

I Want To Kiss God On His Nose And Watch Him Sneeze And So Do You. Not Out Of Disrespect. Out Of Pique. Out Of A Man-to-man Thing.

Today Is Made Of Yesterday, Each Time I Steal Toward Rites I Do Not Know, Waiting For The Lost Ingredient, As If Salt Or Money Or Even Lust Would Keep Us Calm And Prove Us Whole At Last.