With Talons
Driving into my narrowed gut, your eyes
say nothing, read everything out of me.
I find your whisper at my neck
overwhelming. My breath, a gust out of me.
Say nothing. Read everything. Out of me
you take what you want; your lips are always
overwhelming my breath. A gust out of me
and I reach for you with talons.
You take what you want. Your lips are always
painful to watch when not on my body.
And I reach for you with talons,
with everything, but I come up empty.
Painful to watch when not on my body,
driving into my narrowed gut, your eyes
with everything, but I come up empty.
I find your whisper at my neck.
© 2002 by Halsted M. Bernard
published in poem memoir story Number 4/2004