Harlem Nocturne

I feel your lips
right
there
on that
curve
right between the base of my neck and the end of my shoulder
I think it’s a clavicle
I feel your legs in between my legs
And your long toes pushed up against my beauty
full pedicured feet

You wrap your arms around my waist and your hands loving gently
Accepting
Fall on those two humps some call love
I call fat

I feel your hardness pressed against my spine
Buhbum buhbum rapidly
Two for my one but there is a rhythm
Syncopated
But in step
You’re two for my one

You have always given
Two for my one
Are you compensating for my lack
Or adding to what I have
Nothing…

Possesion
You possess me and I possess you
Like demon spirits taking over the other
Not able to be removed
Exorcised

I take your breath sweet into my nostrils and breathe your air
And you do likewise
We are
We are
We are no longer plural so
We is
One

I crave your mouth, your voice, you hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails. I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue. ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XI