My lover loved me
more than I was able
to, and do me a favour,
tell her I still love her so much more
than she can ever imagine any more,
and this is my world.
I love my lover
more than ever I have loved
with, and against and inside,
and that pushing of sex,
and that teasing of teeth,
and that nibbling, that nibbling, that
nibble of love: that glory-filled sweetly boiled
wonder of life!
And it spills over and over, as surely it must:
when two people like you and me
come together in ecstasy: the ecstasy of
daily life lived in sex: but sex as a means not an
end of a member: sex as a tool not a device to
fondly fondle: sex as a way of manifesting
a love, so grand and pumping and beating and
strong … that no one I know can ever say it’s wrong.
And so finally it’s just the two of us sat in this boat;
partially capsized now by my tremendous impatience;
that silence from your side;
a bemusement from mine;
and all I can imagine is your face against my face.
And my face against your sex, burrowing down
like some mime of clownish instincts:
the playfulness of love and life and sex, and
a curious sur-
prise that the sun bestows on all of us who care to
listen, and sound out the truth, and resound with
our fear and fun this fact – this goddamn FACT! –
that we must be won!