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Click hereIt was nearly an hour later
when you rolled away from me
drowsy with heat,
with exertion. My arm,
caught under you, lost
all feeling
until you moved. My veins
had turned to broken green bottles
as the blood remembered its place.
I felt it return, not from the heart,
but from the center, the Mesopotamia
of life. My inner thighs, flesh as sunned
tomatoes, lay an easy entrance
to a teeming, yet stagnant delta. Still,
deeper, this is from where life returned.
I lowered my arm down the side of the bed
and squeezed my eyes against the pain
while you slept.
Your language just blows me away. This is a phenomenal piece.
Bravo. And I see the source of your inspiration for <i>The Mephitic City of Anon</i>; don't blame you — let loose a vent now and again.
I really like the opening, both as setting the scene crisply and the chosen scene itself. Sweltering hot and thoughtful at the same time. 'Tween the Tigris and the Euphrates is the original Garden of Eden, ain't it? ;-)
I found it about as erotic as a tick on my ass, sucking what blood had not drained as I read this tripe.
Your line breaks are choppy and horrendous, your analogy to Mesopotamia is so far fetched it was painful to read. I have to wonder, which one of the Lit regs are you posing under this name as....
A true poetic reminder that once Mesopotamia was the rich and fertile cradle of civilization, not strife and futile death.