3rd Muse Poetry Journal CAllen-Yazzie

Near Silence

Your blood is on my hair rug
My hard head my face
Your throat open to me
That long dark head on my thigh
And everywhere disseminating
Bliss, that is disruption—
Utter fear and the need
My elbow in your soft stomach
Couldn't hurt—
You're smelling of meat
Room temperature
Of openness—my wrist on
Your breast, falling into
Itself—you are my love
And it is everything to me
To look over you, like this
Your neck spilling onto my hips
Everywhere the noise
The flow, the need
To curl inside you, that way
Red, warm, and heading
For open ground, near silence