La Petite Mort

La petite mort

(whether the little or big one, fierce flash then ash)

I am all nerve endings erect
like antlers jutting through velvet.
Succulent sweet sap gashes and drips
glistening buckrammed
primed for hind thrust hit
animal heart races rage
ruts and rams against its cage.

I am breathless
in the roar the pant the snort
of the charge to paw
bite mount and buck
again, again and again
until tear of tissue
bruise of brute
howl of pain
seize slap slit savage brain
and whimpering
turn tongue to my wound.

Photo by TZOLTEC on

Philip Brautigam
No Comments

Post A Comment