Untitled, Old-Ass Poem for JS that I Forgot I’d Composed until the Hour I Reminisce after One of Our Saturday Night Fights
And the chupetones!
Placid now that you’re gone:
Explosive beneath the tongue.
Y cuando regresaras, when the Midwest
relinquishes you to me, then,
fade, fade--this grip of tristesa
of not having you, of knowing you;
The house has taken you away.
I am crimson and Orchids!
Because of you, I swell.
Vessels, guey, venas, and this tussle of sabanas:
Blossoms. Tu bigote. Tu vergota.
And the throat it’s own violet, it’s own
Verge of salt milk, and the whole rotunda of
All the horizons and the silent spin of the earth
And the Spook Lights,
Imperceptible, except to us; that
Ripple in your breathing that only I detect
At 5 am, while 37 whirs like vacuums and
Mechanical virtues. Voracity has never perplexed me
Like this. Vexing me when I want and want
After not having wanted shit for years.
I peer into your Seminole life.
Target the perrito’s eyes, his limp leg and compulsive
Kiss, the three dogs in bed with me--
They look for you in the window.
Fair Avenue, the xolos, my ribs await you.
You’ve put it in me. Blamelessly.
Si, guey. Si.