#12

BONGOS:

your skin is a heresy, a lie
i do not believe what your cilia whisper
stretched thin over scapulae

fictive films on your celluloid thighs
i've watched us for hours, now
the images melt when i open my eyes

you're a mote in my vision
try as i might, i will never see
you, but you blur me

i will try not to scratch
though yours is such a delicious itch
sea salt and ginger and cayenne

stinging; then, caramel
what the hell; you're beautiful
but i don't mind being blind


BRASS: