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Dave Bonta
in my old cloth suit
my usual answer
is to dance
dressed in a new disappointment
I go blank as
any messenger
dressed or undressed
after a little dancing
how little clothes cover us
so we lie
in our stockings and drawers
and all our clothes sleep
bled to make shoes
to make clothes
which they did with good will
and great pain
who could not say Let us see
what we can do to mend all
as a fur of experience
rose over us like amber
cold as our black clothes
our hands reckon and point
and all night my left
testicle aching
I WONDER if with you, as it is with me,
If under your slipping words, that easily flow
About you as a garment, easily,
Your violent heart beats to and fro!
Long have I waited, never once confessed,
Even to myself, how bitter the separation;
Now, being come again, how make the best
Reparation?
If I could cast this clothing off from me,
If I could lift my naked self to you,
Or if only you would repulse me, a wound would be
Good; it would let the ache come through.
But that you hold me still so kindly cold
Aloof my flaming heart will not allow;
Yea, but I loathe you that you should withhold
Your pleasure now.