You Make Love Like the Last Snow Leopard
You make love like the last
snow leopard. Time hunts your shadows.
Your grooves dip a real x of an arc.
I love your shadow. It’s performance on the wall.
Your white hair flocked. It’s old age that makes
you kill for food. You bring a long blank to
bed in, the weight draws out.
You need someone with skill for the excursion.
Ride through the reservoir of sour peaches.
Your name meanders through the grass. Tall
people are in the way. I crowd surf to get to you.
You spill me into the flood. Water rushes out your sides.
You make a mystery of playing political love.
I could kill for you. I’d bring you an eagle stuffed
with finches. Its pouch growing large and groaning
in your palm. A cliff of umbrellas and memory
shaping your every move.
|Mar 03, 2012||Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand||Walt Whitman|
|Mar 17, 2011||Who goes with Fergus?||W. B. Yeats|
|Mar 05, 2013||White T-shirt||Lewis Ellingham|
|Oct 06, 2011||White Stork||Michael Waters|
|Feb 06, 2014||White Days||Priscilla Becker|
|Apr 15, 2011||White Box (notes)||Laura Mullen|
|May 04, 2008||WHERE?||Kenneth Patchen|
|Apr 22, 2009||Where Man Is in His Whole||Hannah Zeavin|
|Aug 23, 2010||Where I Live||Maxine Kumin|
|Nov 09, 2012||When to the sessions of sweet silent thought (Sonnet 30)||William Shakespeare|