Tuesday, March 27, 2012

LEAVING MADRID

close skin scab-
hurt, like a light,
like a ripe melon
compared to Pamela's
tits in heat,

his blood detaches he
hits her
during sex cute
snatch bleeding cheek;
alien distance

filling like a bruise. this
isn't what it sounds like.
you talk too much.
your anger building
like a swollen thumb in time
for the bus-- scab,
graveyard, grocery store, your
day's weird gold

my house to your left,
or to your slightly
tilted, absent

mindedness; your spanish
is perfect.

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