Cello





She made an instant
pushed out from counting
& the shutter click’d

over ease bedside table womb
mattress the anniversary
of cotton’s stories to tell

lay ,supine ,legs lifted
the white threads of winter
back her thighs; if softest

skin ,—& come was paint.
Muscles’ cello raised
& held in flesh dimpled

tattoos & held the drips
of fuckyous without
a shoulder & held to

rest upon palm’d
the pubis mount
of head against head.

‘Richly we part
like Medusa & invite
quivering stem’s

stone through & gasp
for wet wall’s tight grip
’ the ankles by ear

as what runs down her
together is the oil
of shove shared us two.

Look to the firm that
stands, to the soft that
ripples off hipbones

& the banks of a river
swimming my copper
her black reeds.

Put my thumb there,
neck’s-nook settled heel
with the slender curves

of scape that up the
height of me is rooted
into the heat of her.

If at last she plucks
the famous cry of wettest
happiness, then unfold I

inside like splashing
blossom & all we are
is panting ribs together.

Mark

Thank you for reading. It really does mean so much to me.