The shipwreck has come to me for comfort
He drinks my spit and he is defenceless
I bathe him like a baby while he cries
Compensating for his missing power
I bathe his arrow gently, the blue-veined
Aching driving vine, growing tall, taller
To reach the Sun, life's aim, and it is time
To give him the moment of his relief
I take it in my mouth, I feel his pulse
On the roof of my mouth and on my tongue
Our nerve endings are all in erection
And it is time and I bite off his guilt
Set it on the grass amidst the daisies
In State—the flowers represent my love
His cries change—baby, sad pissy baby
I fondle his wound tender like Mother
I have no guilt—the Sun has no guilt when
She explodes and she blinds her worshippers
The two ends of the wound seep blood and milk
And guilt, the pollutant, and the ants crawl
Over to his guilt, carry some away
With perfectly-formed backs, obedience
I had wanted to watch him carry things
Back and forth, back and forth, but not baggage
His groan, core-born, recognition of fault
And how he ruined our love and reward
Quiet!—I put it in my living grave
Wrap it in my pink satin and fuchsia
🃏🌞
