To the sexless nurturer, the one that
rapes the long suffering of abstinence.
I've noticed your equivalence to Uncle Tom.
'I'se in town, honey! ' Looking as huzzy as can be.
Girl you can start an argument in an empty house.
&
For a man, I've never slept in my own bed. But!
For the PO'Boy that I am, I am one fry short of
a happy meal.
By the dear name I know you as, you out do
the journey a butter takes. Suddenly, I think I
can make out your features. You are complete;
You are whole; your missing conflict.
A mind to you. I don't think you could tell me a thang
or two about mixing. At night, like your image, we
should be one door closed to purity. I can rent
out the space of love and grip on the life that beats.
With little distinction, your lips are pink- I could die
in envy of them.
A kiss?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem