Anam Cara with a full dance card
Did you feel the gyrations
Of the magnetic boulders
Collaborating subterraneously last week
Crumpling us together
Leveling our hats
I can see the others you know
All of them
You can't hide them
You are gossamer
But I was last
Most recently frequented
And today you
Smell of my tenderest parts
And your transparency becomes irrelevant
For that short cup of moments
Just dry butterless toast
Presently and statusly quoth
Scarecrowed
Sans agenda
I wonder
Was I clumsily stammered over
And stumbled into
Or while parched
Did you palpate my cadence
And tear away my riparian lovers
To find me naked and engorged
And while looking me directly
In the maw
Proceed to knit your web
I'll need to do more yoga
If I'm going to march
And aid you in spreading
My legs so widely
Lies so thinly
Hubris so liberally
And betrayal with the apathy
Of a house cat
Ava Joe is a Mycological Quaker who writes all of her work in the dirt with a stick. She presently resides on a raindrop at the intersection of the time-space continuum and the blood-brain barrier and doesn't care much for visitors.
Archived at http://www.girlswithinsurance.com/index.php/poetry/42-poetry/155-aj-0310-illicit and shortlinked at http://frsh.in/8h
