O the lovers penis dowsing
over an oily buttock!
Sweating and spent; he loves him and hugs
like a pillow crushed by a lonely sleeper.
Their legs tangle like twisted branches
from the old brittle tree of affection.
They kiss the softest kisses
making the tiniest - almost invisible
sound - like a click.
It is immesurable - that glow,
love taken on and off
like gloves in winter.
Frivolous love,
all the impermanence
of frozen water.
Their icecube hands
melt in each other's hands.
They stare into each other's
eyes like museum statues.
Eyes sparkle like
water in the peach sun.
They know how short
their time together is
how eternal each day
seems.
O nanosecond love! How gone,
all life is melting!
The great supermarket of life
and the long processions
waiting outside graveyards
for the cat box conclusion.
They squeeze and squeeze
each other like handfuls
of daffodils.
Selfish buttock clenching
worshipped madness. They
want to contain each other.
Love's quicksand
in the hands of time.
(Cement a moment with a poem,
send it to the filing cabinet
let is sit there for eternity.
let the next generations read
them and look at your dusted words
your bright face in dead photographs.)
Fellate the cock of a lover
and taste the slight tang
of a touch of urine that
remains from not being
properly cleaned because
haste was to hot to
care how clean the body
was, for life is too short
to iron everything out
pristine white.
And they seem frozen
in embrace. Frozen in
tongues immortalised in stone.
Cozed up together in a boy cuddle.
The hard penis an obelisk
worshipped daily nightly
perenially. Immortalised
in mouths.
They kiss
while an
icecube
melts on
the carpet.
'God must exist...'
he says
curling his golden hair.
'...because our lives are so
small. Something must breathe
bigger than the big bang...'
He kisses his armpit.
He kisses his shoulder blade.
They lie in silence. Breathing.
Their black cat sits like an urn
staring out of the window.
Dozing they make love
in half remembered
dreams.
*Work to be done.