Emergency
This poem appears in We Were Hateful People.
She came into the mudroom with the face of earth.
My burnished angel, back from a day of spinning pain into gold,
Her face as black as a chimneysweep's.
She reached out her arms towards me, and I came.
And I grabbed her ass playfully.
And I asked her about her day.
And she told me.
And I said, "I have to pack up to go to Vancouver."
And she said, "But what about—"
And made a gesture about her nethers.
And I took my hand and I led her to the downstairs suite,
As the painters upstairs painted,
And I stuck my tongue in her cunt
Which tasted like napalm and vinegar.
And I licked her moist pit, not easily coaxed,
And I licked her lips with delight.
And I put in a finger.
And I pulled it out slightly, so she'd want it more.
And, sure enough, she said, "Two fingers,"
As if she were ordering a drink.
So I put in two fingers,
And she reached out her arms towards me, and she came.
And she buried my face in her nethers.
Like she was killing me with her joy.
Then I got up and asked, "Who wants to get fucked?"
And I put myself in her mouth,
But it didn't work.
I got soft. And I sulked.
But she kissed me.
And I kissed her back.
And I took the ferry off to Vancouver.
The fifth of sixth time that week.