That Which Is Forbidden From The View Of An Insomniac
In the dark hours, my head over sized and thick
thinking my neck would be crushed under its weight I dared not
a glance behind me, afraid I'd hear the snap and then
I heard the conversation of the Preacher and the Imagist
'Desire what you once supposed you could not have'
the red temptress stroked her thigh
A retort, a clap 'Never desire that which is forbidden'
Old lady lips, puckered, pursed, and wrinkled
kissed through white fuzz of hair carried through time
to the nape of my neck
A silken tongue wags.
I'm listening to them argue and my neck is not that strong tonight
and both of them are either wrong or one of them is right.
I'll desire nothing, not tonight
My neck is not that thick
The finger points; I shudder.
The salted wind gains savor
The silken tongue will wag.