Untitled Poem # 58

the memory
of my penis
knows lonely Women
dismissive transexuals
& popular whores
even the manicured toes of that
buxom Nubian soprano I sat next to
in the church choir, where even then
we imagined folding her soft breast
beneath the careful lace of her $200 bra
beneath precision eyeliner & thickened lashes

her toes
painted, polished, presented at once
this Woman as in dreams immortal
in Holiness, in supplicant gestures
embraced in the bourgeois
detailed ellipsis of perdition
kissing the ass of God
ordained my faceless lips
forging my tongue in fire
gathered in the upper room
of her nakedness, aghast
and yet unbeknownst of my erection

this angel of heavens
this last vagina in
obsequious compliance
experience this finger fuck examination
searching coochie moisture
moving in wetness
waiting folded flesh


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