I’ll Come, I’ll Come

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POrXY6pGrRQ

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What is sex, and why? What in it –

beyond the propagation of a species –

do we think we have to buy? On what

result of it can we rely? Is it fun?

.

A spastic act? A fact or a phantasm?

Is it the alternating current of a body with

a body feeling powerful or overcome or

both that keeps us craving it until we die?

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Haven’t said a damned thing yet

about why I can’t wait to get into a bed

with you that isn’t facile rhyme. I’m writing

poems when I ought to be igniting me

.

and you into a brazen blaze of hot blue

flesh and reckless tenderness –

a dangerous unfettered mess of trying

to make sex be more than sex. I’ll come,

.

my instigating bum-be-dum,

oh yes, I’ll come, I’ll come,

don’t worry, soon I’ll come, yes:

coming is what I’ll do next.

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