a little privacy

in that restaurant, we
found a good corner, a booth
and three empty tables
in a cul-de-sac, where
no one was looking and
no one cared. the hot waiter –
who was probably gay – helpfully
stayed away as I slowly showed you
a little more skin
than I had been when I
walked in the joint. you
were crazy for me, and I
was blushing. today I learned
that sometimes
a little privacy
can go a long way.

the hart

I know I love you
when you can hurt me more than anyone
and I use it to dig deeper
into my scars
when I care too much
I become the fleet hart
fleeing endlessly deeper
into the cool embrace of the forest
shining white in moonlight
like the dew, deadly
like quicksilver, eternally wounded
waiting for your arrows,
and then suddenly I become Artemis,
I feel her hand steady my spear –
but that is just the idle threat,
I’ll not pierce you bodily today –
the goddess is with me as I merely
decimate you with no effort,
unleashing my sharp-toothed,
slavering words – the very ones
that have been straining at the leash,
raging, inside my mind,
since the last man
who tried to get the better of me –
to tear you apart
for the temerity of your naked
and insolent stare,
your blatant male gaze
aiming looks like dark, darted, darting arrows
into my unclothed heart.

platonic

for SK

You take the words right
out of my brain, and into your mouth—
I can hear you tasting them like the caramel
coins of some unfamiliar candy currency.

Myself, reversed. What was light in me
is heavy in you, obscured. The North pole
and the South, flipped unexpectedly,
must feel much as we do.

And Socrates would be proud of us,
as we work the seam that marks where we
were torn apart at incarnation,
we are Platonic in the Truth of it.