|
Him
lying in the shadows, feet
unwashed. Sheep-sweat, sheep-
shit, man-
 because he let
his brothers teach him
the chore
is womanish, womanish
spring over there, womanish
water he might
have poured over his head, down
his beard, drops
beading under the cloak's
V.
Pitiless
me, night-long, waiting
for the collar
to slip. Black
curls on olive white, white
bones that curve
away under his skin. Matted
nipple I will card
with one swipe of the tongue.
|
