Poem: Saturnalia

 

Saturnalia

 

funnel of ache,

grapple of the ripe swoon,

of the thigh,

 

drug of the horn,

of the gripped nape,

chariot race of breasts,

arched and sheened

and shuddering to shove and tangle

half puppet, half wild.

 

whips of hot breath

yank a swill of flips, of canters,

goatskins of lust and wine,

so much bump and blush

of the far-swayed fruit,

dark under a wolves' moon.

 

mouths merge to gorge,

escape-hungry,

hurtling to break through

 

the barrier of stars.

 

 

 

 

 

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10/26.. eds... difficult poem

5/12/25 ... removed a few words, changed prep  to streamline

4/15... changed a word