Give me a dark room
with a seductive view
of this smoky city,
let me hear the soft
blue jazz spill from your
open window, let me
watch as you move so
slowly through the
naked light, let me
question your intimacy.
Is there a sadness in your
voice, a loneliness like mine,
can I see your complete
intangible beauty before
I close these tired eyes.
I will hold out my hand
for the crumbs of your
love, your confession
will be sweet and painfully
pure, your sexuality
a portrait of god,
your language will be
scattered pieces of truth,
your war a fierce illusion of
strength, your poetry so
pure so perfectly unique,
your beauty so effortlessly
complete …
Clay.M