we both bear the wicked clay of
Sodom and Gomorrah. our hiemal
kiss erupts flowers of sowbread like
pink dreams delayed by our
expectations, your body pushes
against mine, i feel your
pulse staggering in mud, our
reluctance to take it
further
punishes our whimpering cabin, our
2 cats and our garden of basil and tomato
within my clogged arteries,
i tell you
that your people and Gods don’t love
you if they won’t let you love me
because the droplets of our ichor
form colours in the sky.
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