he is licking the shadows at the base of my neck
at my blind shoulders
human bites swell over my back
but there is nothing singing to the tooth grooves
no sweetness under my skin
the word itself is so hard to say. as if invented
not to roll off the tongue like poetry,
but stick to my throat and jab me on its way out.
desire
with its tight start and
long I,
desire,
whose echo launched an avalanche.
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