is the sweep of a wind
that catches long
curling it around into
a delicate knot
about a passing stranger’s throat
as if it were raising
a skirt to reveal
the mortality of us all
and the lust for eternity
that cries out
at the coming of night
luring each to that transient prison
of orgasmic pleasure called love
breathed from the source unknown.
first published in Living With a Stranger: self portrait, 1993. Also published in Love is Just Lust Misspelled, 1994.
There was originally a visual part to this poem, but it is lost in this rendering. The lines were off-set in a tiered way to imply a serpentine motion. I may figure it out by the time the next online chapbook gets figured out too (smile).