"Sexual" he said, and: Hula, and: O Zone, and: Fielding

"Sexual" he said

"... meaning, I feel

them here." We were looking at peonies again,
their swollen heads almost glib with pink-

a lustrous, Spanish sort of finish.

(A netted ballgown, an antique, dusty
kiss.) I could feel myself

beginning to object. Becoming
objectionable, & yet

you get so tired
of your own conjugations, your Freudian luggage

multiplying in its sleep.

He was just admiring their fullness &

in a parallel country, a woman wanted
a man like he was breath.

It was everywhere around us. The world
was florid.

& who was I to disobey this tidal hint?

Hula

I welcome you with my hands
          (that end in orchids)
        (impossible necklace)
(gratitude)

  I welcome you with my skin
    (not so) (exotic)
(much like your wife's)
      (nightgown) (of shadows)

    I welcome you with my skirts
      (multiple) (fragrant)
        (inside them)
          (small animals live)
I welcome you with my breasts
          (coconut)
(armor)

    I welcome you with my eyes
 (the left one)
      (predictor)
         (the right one)

(mute)

O Zone

What a beautiful way to keep you out-
At the center of a maze, a tight white flower
imagined herself into being,

as though it were a profession, no, a curse.
Tonight's moon is all disguise, a stagger of white.
Small wonder that we were in love

with her gauzy arrival...

Fielding

(But the sum of her parts was such a brutal equation.)

Couldn't you take a part at a time, the derisive
left earlobe, the trail

      that hot left behind? I

spell the woman who time left by, I've been spelling
her nightly. Hers is the scalp, shorn

or luscious. I'd like to describe

the lilt of her chin,
but the woman, the woman won't lilt.

        Call me crazy, I like
what time does, a slow warming trend

that moves through the East,
our pasts becoming child brides,

(small & utter)