SABRINA

MANY POEMS COMING SOON!

but first, let us begin with these...

How to make love to me while I'm away. . . .

After you have dirtied your fingers with newspapers, wash your hands in a clean white porcelain sink, one with old handles that have separate faucets, one for water as cold as a wet diamond, one with water almost steam. Dip your hands from one stream to another, holding Ivory soap in your wet palms and let your fingers know the temperatures your heart knows. Clean your hands and face.
Watch the dirt of the day swirls down the drain, your skin softening, your eyes blinking as you wipe the world from your face -- your cheeks becoming smooth again.

Turn off the water and go to the kitchen. Wine is being chilled in your refrigerator. Deep behind the Velveeta cheese and molding bread. I have hidden it there for this specific moment -- and when you extend your arm past the useless food, you will find it's cold glass neck, grasp it there with the intent to leave your day behind you- with the intent I have seen in your eyes that are filled with ocean as we have both descended into cotton sheets and ascended into the nameless angels of flesh that do not believe in fear.
Take a silver wine opener, and let the sleek spiral meet the cork at the point, and biting your lips, press it in and with a delicate wrist, loosen the cork with the unwinding until the pop and the aftermath of fizz loosens your hair that falls loose around your shoulders.

Are you naked yet? No? Well then, let the heat undress you as summer peels your clothes away with restless hands you sometimes call your own. . . and tilt the bottle to your lips while the open windows bring the delighted screams of children to your ears, while the drive-by cars become the sound of ripping waves, as the day slowly dies it's usual death and you, with your feet on the windowsill and palms on your thighs sweat quietly to yourself. Rest the bottle on your sweet belly, and let the cold beads that drip from its glass pierce your body like small teeth. Eat a peach slowly -- you, with your eyes closed (-- unfold like a rose and let everything bloom deliciously, your breasts growing with each deep breath as you grow drunker with each inhalation, as your toes curl, as your head rolls back and your neck becomes exposed to the scene.) Abandoned now, you are loose and my lips are moving about you with these words.

Are you resigned now? And if so -- to whom? Because now you should live in the swirls of your pounding head when the motions you make cannot be accounted for. Where your lips open and close and each breath becomes as sweet as a cherry, where your dreams feast devilishly on themselves and you keep them between your legs, where you ripen and become juice, where all rolls away from you as if the world was a roller coaster, and you- hands up and with your ears on fire are trying to extinguish your eyes that are now trick candles, as you can't see through the flame or focus on anything except the feeling that you, indeed, were made of cloud all day and are now thunder-storming the pavement. Cleaning the old bums of the dirt on their pock-marked faces, draining yourself deep into the soil of fire-escape tulips and small pots of mint. You have exploded into a thousand wet drops of sky, where women toss their hair and their skirts stick to their hips like a finely wrapped gift- where you rain so hard and the storm in your head releases like a fist of God and between your hips, the original apocalypse breaks the world like an egg, like an everyday egg, and you have just awakened from a dream, a dream that had the contour of my face, the one that had bit it's lips while her finger's wrote this, herself half dreaming of you now -- legs still on the windowsill, arms dropped in resignation, mouth slightly open and your collarbone gleaming while an eclipse burns right outside your window burns your tired figure onto the sheets, the sheets where we will meet again and relive our memories with our actions where we kill each other armed only with skin and die perfect deaths in each other's broken arms.

I want my lady narrow and neat
burning my corneas sleek and silent
my 21st century cherub
will shoot her at me
with a twinkle painted in it's contact lens
I want electric love
I don't want a tingle to my thighs
but a static
I want to be nuclear with power
I want someone to Hiroshima my heart
I want to burn so bright and laser like
my palms lay radioactive and imperishable
and forever monuments to a kiss so acidic it scalds my tongue
I want a remote control for each of the earth's elements
I want to have you
gasp
bottle your breath
and market it
label my labia with super glossy bubbilicious letters such as
sweet
tasty
eat this
and
as always, fat free
I want a tv set so large and luminous I stare at it
as a new sky
I want to watt my own sun
to hold the heat in my hand
I want to melt in a chemical sunrise
and wash my eyes with bottled holy water
I would like to buy paradise
I've heard Eden is in East L.A.
I've heard it only takes a day to die
and then fly a phoenix sunrise.

rewinding into night, I see the length of your body
lean and lifting over me
moonlight and my memory
your face, waking up
you in a t-shirt, red and ravenous
we are both carnivores here
we are both drinking in the sun to spit
we challenge the ocean
and watch the stars fall like the universe crying
I don't think you understand how much I could love you
but was not allowed to
here, my fingers run in rivers
and I watch my hands
my hands that still long to trace where your thighs meet
how I love to make you spill
how I love to settle in your arms on rainy days
and how I think our sweat beautiful

you, taking me in the back stairways
we rock until we break something
my boots, half unlaced and the steam
pouring into the night sky.
the hemisphere is just where our heat's meet
the sun.
we are pushing hard into each other
our legs intertwined
we are in and between each other
your fingers deep inside me
and I come like one
sweet tongue
rushing over.

we are living in a world full of
politics and protections
of diseases and disinfectants
but you,
you and your hair flames,
but you,
you and your pet names and strength
I do not know if I can handle it
when you push in me
hard,
I can almost believe that it is that motion
alone
that makes the earth turn.

Hitch me like a taxicab in this dangerous neighborhood
your whistle my arrival
as I swing this yellow machine
it's checkered teeth grinning to your dime,
your paper for my gas and time
I'm
pleasantly surprised at the smooth leg that slides into the unstuffed seats
the chewed up meat of atmosphere
stained with others and my rearview mirror understandings
my slit of reprimanding for passengers who
taxi this cab a hotel to shoot up or to smell between the thighs
of Aphrodite's night
so secretly in moonlight.
But you.
I turn my intention around and greet you warmly with your slinky gown as bare
and loose
as a single thread that bounds your lithe body like an indifferent corset
and hangs off your shoulders in nonchalance
I start the meter
a metronome to our drone of maddening silence
that if torn away would leave so many naked dreams and chicken dinners
we pass these graveyards silently
stalking life with a rising prize
the hem of possibility rising like an
insistent ocean tide
I feel my legs go to liquid and the saltwater of some other comes
between my knocking knees like a grinning river of understanding
We melt to a stop in your destination parking lot
your diamond wrist flicking paper flames of green to your
blinking fare
spiked nails gleaming red daggers
you place the sickening money in my mouth
stuffing me like the turkey I am for not slamming the breaks in
country roads
or clotting the veins of the city streets we passed to get here
tearing off the fabric to your
O'Keefe understanding
to the labia
the landing of 22 years of passing days in puddles of regret
I'll taste the liquid of you yet
I think of the soggy Presidents in my mouth
knuckles whitening to your next move
Between us lays a chessboard
pawning off our sentences like nameless soldiers
this is how the mental war passes between us
while we could have been a shining, shaking double venus
the Queens keep in close pairings with the Kings
while we save our tongues for better things