Breed Me

My sweat soaked the sheets.

You used to be like everyone else

but then

the way you hurt me (fingers, teeth):

I grew accustomed to it

then I craved it

then I got bored

and other men tried to put death into my mouth.

Angelic Richie with bite marks

in such a clean room.

I deplore clutter but I do like flowers.

A tall drinking glass filled with peonies

the color of underwear.

I like hard and classical.

The ceiling black like Caravaggio’s wine.

Through the blinds, obscure gods shined,

making the outlines of my body

a kind of emptiness.

The ceiling fan

pushed heat around

even though it was snowing outside.

You forgave

my love of surfaces.

It’s not a tragedy we couldn’t have a child.

I had a pain inside me

and I needed you to deepen it.