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.

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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 http://www.mgmartin.tumblr.com & @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: http://youtu.be/q0rUxL5Q3ts

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