In Parts Only
I go deep into him, fast,
each thrust like gulping champagne,
seeing the parts slide
and steam struggling between,
his sweat reminds me
of rain on rocks and how in dakota
there are canyons no one has touched
basins loved only by rat noses
dampening the edges.
I would go deep into them
so my body becomes flat
by the canyon bed
and crows could sweep over me
if they liked,
gather on my body
until my hips shock them
into the air again.
Like the crows, so many of my favorite things are in parts
and I've seen many bodies in parts only.
