A daily poem #288 – November 11, 2010

A poem
by Sarah Gambito

Holiday

I want to lick someone
with an antelope for a head.
A whole-person-boxer for a fist.
Circulatory, fruited over
nostalgia to overcome me like
a truck I’ll drive over his body
while he reaches for a
telephonic breast. The way gods
do when they create
the first animal cracker
steams of existence.
Fat plant and vernix.
The shattered cursive equations
my love was capable of.
I said there will never be a night like this
How is it I was right?
How fibrous and incidental it seems.
The tiny leather jackets we wore.
What was it about that quality that I admired?
Loping around like a christening polecat.

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~ by Chris Hibbard on November 11, 2010.

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