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Airless

Airless

Ink wash by Nikita Gurnani

you photographed me
exposed, image of your arm
outstretched clenching my neck
squeezing cluster of wind where life
temporarily nestled
leaning back I said, “keep the one
where you hold me by the neck,”
I do not refuse the deprivation
I welcome it.

do not unleash my body
resigned above yours — desperately
waiting for your inviting intrusion
as your crescent fingers wrap the air
and deliver “I love you.”

save that one, an image of me
where your knuckled grip holds
the power I invite, a faculty I possess
I am certain…

and as you thrust your ideas around
filling me with monstrous hunger
circling the cavernous leaflets
of my naked body, and this deep forest
you roam then retreat from
with all faculties formed pleasing
as you fall to the ground, to its end.

and your acid flinching gaze
with a slight tug — pulls me in
reopens me again — back
as I am about to fall
asleep. under your spell,
under your command, bare
and dreaming on my feet, I walk
my dreams too deep
into the wretched ground
where worms feast at my failed hopes
burrow in my ripe sex
woefully eat at my naked breast
then slither in my exposed mouth.

underneath your black breath
are ample sounding moans
where I — your metaphor
used as cylinder for good measure
used my body to advance your experiment
for a trick that might work.

you might say I am out of order
you might say, “should I persist
to evoke — summon you
from the underground?” I say,
“what if I tied a rope around your neck?
wrestling, assumed you are there to hurt.”

you smile — spreading my arms
across our sea bed, face in deep
you ask if I beg to surrender
turning over in this abysmal vault
I motion yes to your desire. 


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