[Bending Coalitions of a Contrite Affliction]
Into a porcelain recollection
of nights heavy with the scent
of aphrodisiac greed…
A quivering spasm moves down my spine
with every silken moment of fist-clinched bliss.
Can you hear the frivolous complaints
seeping from my precarious lips?
[Or did slumber claim you from my arms
somewhere in between enraptured cries?]
And a sudden introspection -
an aching reality waiting to escape
the walls of these lips…
Have I become a capricious ghost
offering nothing more but
uninspired arms of want
[for words, for flesh
for anything to grasp without
bending any beliefs?]
Was I that arid?
...and you held
irrefragable truths -
crumpling them with hands
furious with adoration.
How could I have denied you
with a thousand spiteful snakes
licking my feet?
t.seymour - Collaboration with Reena Jacinto (Saturnine Silence)
12.22.2002