My Brief Exchange With a Stripper
There is quiet energy
In our writhing
for blind love
to be released.
A scarlet breathe kiss touches
Each moment that passes over
Her sad eyes,
Her goldless gold,
Her existenital pole climb.
The energy that sprouts from
Her legs is like a wounded wind
Over water...
(When we think of the pain
in someone else's feet,
When is it that we decide to leave that pain?)
I asked her where she lived.
She asked if I was a stalker.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2009
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