Monday, April 14, 2025

April 14

 Thunderhead

The amber clouds part. Honey dissipates.

Syrupy piss dissolves in a cold, clear rush.

I savor the sticky aftertaste of a dream 

in which my tongue was worming its way 

through rich soil, tunneling into 

some body’s slippery velvet.

I throw off the comforter and marvel

at how much longing remains

in this seemingly barren reservoir.

The planet is noisy with morning,

teeming with latent desire.

The blinds rise, curtains spread 

of their own accord. 

Wings beat against the window.

Throbbing, thrumming. Golden.

 I throw it open.


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