Although he's left, / I can still feel his body
When I invite him in / to my apartment, I am not thinking
we drove north from the city / into the hills
Tanka attempting the style of Izumi Shikibu
He sat every day in the library / reading foreign newspapers.
I told Ma that I was working...
Sherry asks me what / I can possibly get out of kink.
Something of an explanation
Ben told me he'd once / been a bouncer
I want to turn my eyes away / so as not to spy the guilt
I stood on the deck and raised my blouse
His slap wasn't all that bad
I really remember the mornings / after you've left
Tanka intended to be in the style of Yosano Akiko
Eddie detuned his guitar a step. . .
Mine had, as they do, a short skirt. . .
I sift its pages / through my fingers
I asked the captain / where we were bound to.
Restless in the night, I could not sleep.
How well I got to know / the back seats
I walked barefoot / out of the shower
I watch him from across the room
It's not just the repetition. . .
Her conversation would flow past him. . .
What I cannot understand, I cannot say. . .
Taper could be these slender candles. . .
I lay curled on the floor
It’s not that you ask, but how.
A poem about incestuous guilt.