'tween nurture and slaughter

We women of worth
doubt of which we hold
close, let fester,
how then to lock it away
if not massmurder?

To one,
to which, to whom
of wealth is a lover’s lust
and love
probably-possibly-perhaps
yet not yet counted upon
the doubt of unknowing,
thrills and thwarts.

And her worth?
On the fence
‘tween nurture
and slaughter.

I want...

I want to drive
to the coast and walk the beach
Hear the rain
on a tent as I drift asleep slowly
Take the train
down to carney rides, bolts
loose, I’ll scream
to the thrill of my own heart
beating, ba-boom
Scream for my team, home runs
hit hard, hitting
hard
hard

I want to wake slowly
most days,
teasing
having lingered too long touching
in the eve,
cooing
in the starlight past midnight
Snuggle into
that warm body that takes up
too much
of the bed


I want…

tempura

The onions are best
when they’re sweet
Vidalia or Texas 1015,
the batter mixes best
when the water is ice
cold, and the rings fry
best when the oil is
an inch and half deep…

We have eaten, you have left.

Running my nose
along the length
of wrist and palm,
I can still smell you
on my hands
and on my clothes.