X & Y Rated

for Jennifer


Perhaps our love making is not a creation.
Recreation? A frolic fuck, for a while, 
Then waves of otherness roll us over;
Another's on top yet not to subjugate,
Undercurrents tell us to surrender,
“Wave a white flag!” how can we?
Shades of white, our shivering skin, 
Our inner colours Pink and Punk,
Contiguous walls--buildings in Lisbon--
Our furnace rages on,
Levers are pulled, manipulated;
Is it too soon, too late, is it now?
Hair embroidering hands, needles
And needs met; all moist, all wet;
Over we roll, ensemble;
Synchronous dancers, swimmers
Of the deep, surfaced creatures,
Lazy lizards, trees, and ripe fruit;
Coffee in the morning,
And cock and tails later on;
Faces full of lips, nipples full, 
Food sources that more hunger fuel,
The ultimate richness of the poor, 
White trash meets Avalon;
A ghetto behind a neck and back, 
The privacy of chest on chest,
Teeth and tongue, so to speak;
Books shout from the bookshelves,
Dust and words fill in the air,
Pleasure shouts from within us,
And love garnished by lust.