This is something I wish I had written. It is available in Siken's book Crush which is available on amazon.com.
There are so many things I'm not allowed to tell you
I touch myself, i dream.
Wearing your clothes or standing in the shower for over an hour, pretending
that this skin is your skin, these hands your hands,
these shins, these soapy flanks.
The musicians start the overture while i hide behind the microphone, trying to match the dubbing
to the big lips shining down from the screen.
We're filming the movie called "Planet of Love" -
there's sex of course, and ballroom dancing, fancy clothes and waterlilies in the pond, and half the night you're
a dependable chap, mounting the stairs in lamplight to the bath, but then the too white teeth all night
all over the American Sky, too much to bear, this constant fingering, your hands a river gesture, the birds in flight, the birds still singing outside the greasy window, in the trees
No comments:
Post a Comment