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Butch Decatoria
Poems
Dec 2015
ENDANGERED UNDERSTANDING (Spoken Word #3)
A hawk is hatched
in the harlequin hush
inside the walls of library books
in their incendiary shelves
incline
invitingly
in carnal stories
in words that leave us billowing smoke
in scenes of innuendo...
A bird of prey in flight
even in a stationary perch,
he is a glorious sight
eyes full of limpid thoughts, & search,
levitating litany
like taboo
thrown across the room
questions and detours
from his gaze
uphoric pheremonal *****...
My ***** is
in a penury of vigor,
my skin / proving red-rushed
weaknesses
for just his adonis sight
for just one fantasy night...
The humid walls,
with their olden and unbiased
silences
attend my quickened qualms
attend my entirety of suddenly
needing
to be caught in his talons' violences
craving
to be the meal ~ in a hawk's sight,
flesh ripped in lushious strips
to be inside his mouth,
to feel
my digestion...
We match growling stares,
feel the quicksilver pulse,
hesitation and realization
the super nova flares
heating my middle,
hardening my fiddle
creating new sensations
and worlds of wicked inflections
a warm nest
to rest, after the S
E
X...
A nervous breath,
as he stands
abducting his hardbound knowledge
odyssies in exquisite arms
a twinkle in his *******-brown eyes
a pause, for crumbs to be sprinkled
on the path to reprise,
a piece of paper with a numeric surpise;
a name:
"ANGEL" flashing collegiate goods,
an endangered understanding
a naughty smile--a young mouth,
and i am a V-formation
heading for warmer south...
A hawk is hatched
from the harlequin hush
of the Flamingo Library,
i am ready
to fly beyond loneliness and February,
catch urgency's godspeed to Angel
in the tradewinds of our testosterone
his invitation scribbled on a corner piece of notes
i am guessing / i'm in control
i am the words unspoken
in these pages, in dusty scrolls
in the volumes on the walls
our endangered understanding
If he is there and nothing's there...
still must follow my volcanic hopes meandering
so to speak that entangling
his and mine / tongue...
how like a hawk in Spring
i am sprung...
(and understanding
how endangered I become)
Written by
Butch Decatoria
47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA
(47/M/Las Vegas, Nevada, USA)
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Butch Decatoria
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