Viscosity Poem by L.B. Temuco

That sliding
wetness
it drips from mouths
sucking molecules
that catch
on warm bits
of themselves
of something needed
but kept waiting
of something she understands
far better than he
the insistence
the long, hard
pressing against themselves
the moist distance
a strange separateness
hides itself
beneath the flood of moments
it is not the love
they know
it is not something that,
unlike her,
he recognises at all,
he cannot leave
where he has never been
he cannot know beyond the soft giving of skin
he wants to believe in more than sunken thoughts
the refusal
the peculiar, unrelenting geometry
that without proof
or reason
takes them to
the edge of Ambrosia
and even closer to hell
Inside her
there is a place
more viscous, she says
less fluid than he with truth
where older minutes
like un-required protein
coagulate and slow the flow
of feelings
where deep sirens
of pleasure
are always calling
her soft urgent sighs
drift through the
breaking mists
and she retreats to those other
hidden places
where the present
like a missing child
cannot find its way back
where the truth she seeks
leaves only crimson stains
on the cold ragged stones that bleed beneath her feet