The drowning bed

He came to me rank with visions
of her     and her     and her     dripping
loose     blind
eyes     fingers     mouth
roots of these eyes
torn       balls
left to flounder.

His kisses spoke in foreign tongues drunk
from their secret sites
left wet unctuous messages
trapped in the hollow
of my tongue     choked
behind teeth.

His pounding strokes brimmed this bed with the slap
and slop     of sweat     semen

He may drown me yet
in some other.

I cannot spit them out.

Sandie Walker (Western Australia)

No comments:

Post a Comment

Now that Uneven Floor has retired from active publication, no new comments are possible — sorry. You're welcome to share the poem on social media and comment there.

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.