Nathan Martin Poet I do not know?

Strange Fiction

you drunk again from the original sin turn your head 
a little to mix the blood with the water. 

speak into my left ear where i her lies the best you say.

  a metal crusifix round your neck keeps eardrum
  aquaducts from draining their lower case verbs 
  and adjectives onto the floor.  

so we are quite for awhile, waiting for the
 sound the movement of voice and tone to
 decifer the truth.  

 but nothing moves.

 now i place heavy latin numerals to mark
 the spaces between us. 

 you tell me that there is a fire that burns 
in you and that it once burned between 
the ribs of adam....and that now it is mine.  

so i stoke and fuel the fire with strange paper back
 fiction novels i found at a garage sale. 

 the light and warmth it brings is 
 enough for now.

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