the dead sea

making love

like a dull guillotine

with unshaven mollusks

fumbling about in the sea

her whining

to whatever was still a child

in her

like love

taught by the lightness of parents

who showed her life was her life

to ask and demand and want more

more more

give it give it

come on

me there apologizing

to whatever will be old

and crumbled in me

from murders like today

where she laps sitting legs around

the track of my waist

longer than i remember

though i must’ve converted imperial to metric incorrectly

though there is no snide snivel or mention

of the headless hollow ride

that decays

like a pumpkin

lit and terrible

grinning from hunger

come on come on

push it

but not so hard

and not so fast

and not so quick

and not so slow

and not so so-so either

but instead use your

eye contact bear traps

and the poetry of everyday

that avoids the bleeding sun

between my legs

if i don’t catch the limbs

and the gurgles coming

no no no

we finish to howling dogs

and to angel’s falls still raining

on the ants below

that have traveled from the amazon

to the morning motel room

to eat the condom

and feed their babies

with life and death in equal greedy bites

found in her mouth too

where she asks me if i know what a bird tastes like

i ask what bird

she says a seagull

i imagine like the ocean

but remember that it too is drying

perhaps from the very salt that made it it

she migrates elsewhere

wild and wingless

while i wait for wretchedness

to come on come on