February Muse

During one of his kinky streaks, he asks me if
I could work the lather on his five o’clock shadow;
An ordinary man with saggy man-breasts and
Hirsute complexion and a brutally loveless face (that
brought me to him), how often, he seems so unattainable.
What am I growing into? A woman who can no longer find love?
I agree. Therefore, I try harder every day.
As I shunt in closer I feel his heat getting stitched
Into my breath, buzzing a dull fever in the folds of my anatomy.
Come to me. Stay.
The day wanes in the summer dust of his slurping slippers,
And the future unfolds like a Faustian bargain…


Now Playing::Om namaha............Gitanjali