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Alice's view
he smiled intermittently between ugly faces,
faces of gnashing teeth during the adamant grind.
his face bubbled into salty prisms
that dripped and puddled
a necklace for me.
he had yellowed flesh with cratered pores.
his eyes were glassy and
a thin, pale, lucid blue line searched.
His whites weren't.
They were strained yellow/red.
His black was thick, empty and eclipsing,
A fetid abyss of fecund desire.
Between his thin smiles were pleasures and pains.
His face would change slowly
relax and tighten
stretch then swell.
His lids would close and squeeze.
They squeezed juice from where it was impossible.
His eyes would taunt then love
Hate then entice
nose would flare then contract.
lips would bleed then disappear.
His hair, wet, matted, cemented to his skin,
trickled cold filtered salty stings into my sighs.
the effluvium brought sound…
"Fuck me red and love me concupiscent
so we can end with a pasty kiss without having to."
• • •
On seeing Alice for the first time in History
Christ
the board is wet
like
green mold
that sweats, melts.
15 minutes into this monotony and 20 to go.
But then I see her.
I chew my thumb
nail-
forehead salt stings my eye-
brackish burn from her legs uncrossing-
I like
to talk a lot,
often
too much
and
to fuck all day, all night
in the crowded yard
on the picnic table
while
splinters puncture the pure lust
the skin
the flushed
slippery
impatient-
Now
she's lying there like an Indian goddess,
glowing,
half clothed
dunning me for her show
for love for sex for…
for lust that crawls up my leg
and
squeezes-
I am not I
I am Me looking at you,
wishing
I could breath your air
soak your smile
bite your lips
gnash your nipples hard
making you
groan
squirm
grind.
• • •
Conception
upstairs, on the toilet
smelling him inside me,
sour---
linoleum, sticky and damp---
washing myself with soaked toilet paper
that clumps like old paste
my burning folds
try to flush him
out.
he's still here,
an effluvium---
downstairs here
in the kitchen
eating a block of sharp cheddar---
the tile cold and damp
---
The mashed crumbs stick to my feet---
smelling her on me
only half extinguished-
I slide two fingers along myself
just to taste her again---
stinging like a wasp on my
tongue, still warm
like blood.
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