- Erotic Poetry
- Power Out
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In the dark is where I want to be with candles
whispering waxy sounds. Batteries and rims
of your brown glasses.
Telling tales on the floor under blankets brought
down from upstairs.
No noises but us and occasional cat hiss pissed
by wind percussion on this camp floor hard wood
below hips, outer thigh and inner meaning.
We wake feeling bony.
It is pounding water on slats and the wax is
pooled in saucers.
First light linemen peer through the window
enjoying our safety and copulation.
