Mouth curry-pricked, then tea that’s scalding hot,
perhaps Assam with milk. I just can bear
most pleasures that I love. The edge is where
I live – it bites. Mostly I’d rather not
make neat distinctions. The thin slice of pain
a razor edge that teases me to lust.
Strong feelings best for we’re a long time dust.
Hurting is how I know I feel again
when mind and heart are dry and there’s a taste
metallic in my mouth, grinds grey ennui
tin foil against my teeth. She looks at me
smiles quizzical. My heart so tightly laced
from its safe jacket breaks. A little. Yearns
the unattainable. But joyful, burns.