There is something I want to say
about the bell sleeves of this sweater
and the possibility of an unknown man.

Because he is clean to me,
grass spreads across his belly.
He is light without blankets.

Far away I stand in a room holding
lust like an overripe tomato.
I could cut this open for you;

Because my eyes have never
seen real prickles of hair pulling
out of your skin.

Because I have never licked
your mouth clean of desire.
I swallow this alone with salted guilt.

These rules that govern me
are slower to move then
the plates of this earth.

and I am here
and I am lonely