Wrestling

And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.

It isn’t Jacob wrestling with the angel,
it’s the warm part with the cooler part of you –
the het-up grappler with the big red butt,
the quiet canny fighter in his enigmatic blue –

the former dude too sure the latter dude
is through – the endlessly recombinative
machinations of the two – spinning slowly,
mildly, vainly in a mellow, not unpleasant vortex

radiating yellow, green and purple hues: loins
and limbs and torsos whirling, squirreling,
struggling, rubbing, quaking here, below, around,
above. They almost might be making love.

.