I left you last night
For a pad of paper and a pen.
You took your tongue from my mouth
And every orifice spewed words
That had been crammed in
The space behind my eyes,
The base of my skull.

You were humming from body and I
From brain when I leapt up
To scribble so hard my ******* shook
And my fingers ached like a happy
Heart.

I finished quick but shook still,
Bones echoing groans full of soil and stone.
I sat and bathed my sore hands
In the remembered rhythm of you and
Your muddy whimpers.

I didn’t much mind the cold;
I had a better view of you curled on the covers,
Eyes closed loosely, chunks of my wall
Underneath your nails,
Little flesh shell on my beach.

And I do not much mind now
Being the territory
Of a cartographer with such sharp nails.
See, you came and,
Conquered, I love your little red lines.