She sleeps all day. Dreams of you in both worlds. Tills the blood, in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc, grief sedated by orgasm, orgasm heightened by grief. God was in the room when the man said to the woman, "I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me. Pull me in, pull me in, pull me in." Sometimes when he'd have her nipple in his mouth, she'd whisper, "Oh, my God." That, too, is a form of worship.
Her hips grind, pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves. Whenever he pulls out ... loss. Dear moon, we blame you for floods ... for the flush of blood ... for men who are also wolves. We blame for the night for the dark, for the ghosts.
She sleeps all day. Dreams of you in both worlds. Tills the blood, in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc, grief sedated by orgasm, orgasm heightened by grief. God was in the room when the man said to the woman, "I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me. Pull me in, pull me in, pull me in." Sometimes when he'd have her nipple in his mouth, she'd whisper, "Oh, my God." That, too, is a form of worship.
Her hips grind, pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves. Whenever he pulls out ... loss. Dear moon, we blame you for floods ... for the flush of blood ... for men who are also wolves. We blame for the night for the dark, for the ghosts.