Daddy takes his meat raw, tender, moist - spanked.
Daddy knows this one well. I squirm to accommodate his hand as it reaches the curve of my ass.
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theftAnd turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
Philip Larkin.
Absence
On the scales of desire, your absence weights more
Than someone else’s presence, so I say no thanks
To the woman who throws her girdle at my feet,
As I drop a postcard in the mailbox and watch it
Throb like a blue heart in the dark. Your eyes
Are so green, one of your parents must be
Part traffic light. We’re both so self-centred,
But the world revolves around us at the same speed.
Last night I tossed and turned inside a thundercloud.
This morning my sheets were covered with pollen.
I remember the long division of Saturday’s pomegranate, a thousand nebulae in your hair,
As soldiers marched by, dragging big army bags filled with water balloons, and we passed a lit match,
Back and forth between our lips under an oak tree
I had absolutely nothing to do with.
-Jeffery McDaniel
Master likes to distract me while I try to blog… it’s not very fair, in my opinion ;)
Taking what’s his.
