Two Poems by Giacomo


until there was no more flesh to grip

We drag barbed hooked happiness through rock pools blossoming red coral sharpness,

a hard blue choking back blood freezing razor ribbons held tight between held hands.

Falling against wet fingers, ripping soft palms.

Our eyes taste bone’s whiteness before the scab.

1000 year’s marbled warmth unloved against fragile fists.

Bent toothed knuckles cracking tear ducts; pooling hot love smeared.

My mouth screamed throated sobs and from your pockets handfuls of my hair

still wet from the shower.

Bloodshot black eyes bruised by heavy kisses to bandage neglect of when you needed flesh to grip

and I was sheeted flint cracking from the weight of wet breath.

You clear clouded eyes with a rolled sock from our floor and through the hole in your body,

a new space that is unchanged except for the cavity of each point with your shape.

We rip a square of skin from the soft lined flesh under our eyes.

I fold you delicately to place in the damp under tongue and taste you with every kiss.

In dark rooms new loves hold my bones under your skin and my hands end with your fingertips.

We fall hard rocks crashing from white foam and bite down fierce misplaced lust cracking shards.

You are,

long after I’m bleached and picked clean by passersby.

My blood is clean but I won’t ask you to drink it

I hate that if I let myself bleed out I could never fill a condom.

I hate that If I stood there pulling open my veins
falling out into the opening
the latex would stretch to hold all of me.

That when I was empty the condom would be
a heavy hanging fruit with space between
the rib and the red and I hate that.

I would give my fruit to you and the sun
would shine through our bodies but my red
glow would be missing.

From above I’d watch you walk away
the rubber rubbing thin on the asphalt.

An iron trail behind you until the condom hung
empty from your hand and I am
a weightless stain on the floor.

The rain would wash the red turned
brown off the street and I hate that.

I hate that I poured myself stainless across you.

I hate that you never felt me draining out
as you walked beneath my shadow.


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