In love with dismal days, he told me why:
Won by dimensions, his green eyes caress
Big bosomed clouds. Suggestiveness of haze
Conjures up Milky Ways of perfect tits
And testicles enjoying their cloud crouch.
Strange raining moonbeams rouse dark pantomimes,
And any comet brings exuberance
Of a clitoris now popping up its hood
For all-night drives.
Nello’s got sexual
Stances up his pajama sleeves — — though not
For me! His latest incantations roll
From thunder. My horizon’s modest with
Protrusions, making fancies ache, aware
My hidden flame will howl, then sputter, die
By sunrise, as romance drops like a hawk.
Beside me he’ll lie — — still undressing the sky.
___
The featured untitled image accompanying this poem has been used with the permission of artist, Josh Lopez.
