casserole of the sensual parts


you remind me of a shave i’ve never had b/c around you i’m
younger than an infant & you are more of love than a mother.

if you were of plastic & i was of dust/then i could rest in you/while
you vacuumed the rest of/all i’d ever need.

i’ve always been partial to the way you talk about arm sex. yr
mouth makes it sound exotic, making me want it to exist.

i watch you in the mirror, you look like this haiku: dust on the
bookshelf:/i’ve been reading the curving/verse of yr body.

i googled yr name & my computer melted. so, i unplugged my
refrigerator, stopped shaving & wrote a book about you.

i dreamt you hit me b/c i said: “you can shoot a freethrow for a
girl,” then i woke & painted a picture of yr toenails.

you came home & i said: “here honey, i made a necklace out of the
deepest of yr stocking lint.” you smiled: sadly, & left.

i watch you looking like a raymond carver paragraph. all out of
tune & shaky lensed. you are shaved soft, not stirred.

i wish you were a hand & i, a: casserole of the sensual parts, so
that you could smother me into ending, happily.

& here i go again. writing on brightly colored paper with nail
polish & shaving gel, painting word pictures about you.

Previously published in Explosion Proof.

M.G. Martin is the author of One For None (Ink). His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Word Riot, PANK, Requited and ZYZZYVA. Find him at & @themgmartin. M.G.’s “poem for t who walks like nina simone” is also in Reprint Poetry.

Object(s) to bring back to life: “I would like to bring back the 1970s, or more specifically, a time when women’s rights weren’t being attacked & taken away. Also, music like this: