Eros Quarters

The insidious reign of your apparitions, your coitus with the attic serpents was sufficient to strip all pigment from my skin. Was it they who walked you blindfolded through the upper chambers of our modest Eros quarters? Didn’t you walk them? My self-reckoning, old Freudian suppers were wet cookies beneath your heels. And we lived here! Their split tongues crowded my speech. Our energies were split hairs, gnarled To the scalp! Our timid blithe seconds were massacred! Published: PS It's Still Poetry, January 2022