ROYGBIP

Eggs, Spinach, and Feta

An omelet will have to do.

There will be no hazy kisses
to neck, breasts, and fingers
served like breakfast
in bed. Friends let
other friends
sleep in.

He will tiptoe
to the kitchen where
hungry fingers
will tickle nipple
lids upon heated rims

instead.

It Won't Be Thanksgiving Without Wild Game

For Breece DJ Pancake

Winter's a God damned thief.

There is nothing left of the farm
but skin and bones;
the white dust of first frosts,
twitching skeletal oaks,
and corn brought to its knees
begging for mercy.

Take your rifle
and storm the grey light.

Bring back death
slung over one shoulder
skinned, dressed, and ready
for skillet

A Neck is Bleeding Italian Silk

Red on curved course
it spills from
shoulder
to chest
and pools upon pillows.

Her hair sticks to it
but choking
laughter softens the gore.

Too tired to undress,
stretching,
I gather it between fingers

and collect the mess
until she
is cleared
of its delicate
path.

Joyita

Joyita.

It sounded like joy
only slightly smaller.

The ocean
with blank stare
took sick pleasure
it trapping your hull
and making it

as wee
as a wink.

It's Okay!

Reclining Now Politely

Concealed by kimono
and barren pinata,
Miss November's
perfect tits (1967)
enjoy gifts from Japan
and Mexico on an unmade bed
of blue.

An unlikely threesome
of bronzed skin,
papermache,
and hand embroidered silk

I pity
how dull your bedroom
door must be.