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
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