Member-only story
S C A N D A L O U S
An Erotic Poem
sin never tasted so divine as this —
that’s what they all say, over and over,
as if there’s some absolution to their crimes,
some hope for winsome matters such as these
callous divine rites of meaning —
oh, pray to your lords and ladies if you must,
but give me the days of arts and patronage
far from a world where it’s spinning out of time
annals of our records bleed in rituals
of skin hungering after skin again and again
till as much time as we can find a true meaning
of some heralded upright devout method of being
nevertheless, give me your heat and give me your flesh —
make it known as the moon takes shape above
that we are not too kind to ourselves (oh no, of course not) —
but find it in your heart to forgive me if I don’t risk much now
deadened eyes, quickened pulses, height after height —
oh, I chase it in your eyes and across the starscape
of your very self unwinding, blistering beneath me,
a volcano ready to erupt at a moment’s notice (if only, if only)
