shithouse

Looking at you


i can't see myself
looking down at myself
going into you and out
of you
see the ceiling fan light
 eclipsed by you and
 your warmth against
my chin and nose
pushing down as if to break
me, your hands holding back the
wall,
there is a sound a woman makes
like she's throwing away
a heavy object
  but over and over
with wild air

cannot work you into
 a setting where you
  back your sweating
        ass up to me
 and toss your hair for
   me to grab
like poetry or moonlight

or even the delicate frottage of morning
          wood against your
      panties and all

no, not you
I want to hold you in
       like breath
and let you out in
 a great silver bubble
     on its way to the surface
           warmer and stronger
while I choke on the bottom
         my love for you
makes me want to open up my skull
             with pretty sparks and
                 wet smoke.