Litkicks Message Board Archive

Red Hot Love

Posted to Poetry




I followed alleyways,
washing-lines and sleeping drunks
to your door
where I stood hunched against the cold
listening to the serenades of strays

I saw your figure at the end of the hall,
silhouetted by the fire
the desire just to run
quelled by the memory of your calcium thighs

The lights are flickering, dim
in a nearby room, I can hear
Rimbaud stuff another manuscript into the stove
as Verlaine loads a gun

You're the Sphinx, half covered in sand,
leading me
to your bed where the trinkets of past lovers
glow red-hot while we make love.