Each image of your body
that returns
denounces other bodies
as heretics
denounces me
for false worship
so,
You bring me low

It's your eyes that offer longing,
that betray your assembled form,
they show you naked and afraid
of what you see in mine.
The desire to crush you
when you stand like this
so weak,
so wet,
salivating,
it almost overwhelms me

What stops me
is the daylight
and your other life
and the instinct to protect you.

Today my voice is a low motor
that growls from gut to throat
it was made this way by longing
and whisky
and no sleep
and aching for you

you can hear in this voice
the appetite
that howls incessantly
to have you

to have you trembling
and naked,
reconciled
to me