Sex in the Sky
I was on my way to Emily Dickinson’s house,
when these two clouds spit on my skin.
The storm left them behind, so
they followed me up I91 North
en route to Amherst.
I soon forgot about the clouds
when I saw you-
you straddled above me
like sex in the sky.
The clouds grew bitter.
They wanted you,
wanted to be part of you,
part of something magnificent
again, & so they ate you out,
stuffed each layer of your promises
into their mouths & took the credit.
I wanted to catch
you –have one more look,
so I tapped on my breaks
to decelerate the race
between us. It was too late.
I watched as they
devour you fast & wild:
They peeled off your red cloak
consuming the pain of wars dripping
in your juice mid-chew like komodo dragons.
They pulled at your orange slip
then masticated with their mouths open
overriding years of corporate greed
like a fire-eater at the Greatest Show on Earth.
Your yellow skin made them howl
in wolf packs as they struggled with
the “peel here” corner; they rubbed
& rubbed until you separated;
the wait was worth it.
You melted in their mouths
like lemon drops soothing
the parasites of addiction.
Your green eyes cleansed
their palate like ginger as
they turned over the Earth,
foiling centuries of forest fires.
They drank your blue sweat
like boilermakers cleansing
the seas of oil spills in one pint-glass.
Integrity was almost restored
as they sucked the sweetness
from your indigo lips.
You made their tongues turn purple
before they went for your Violet.
Poor Violet!
She was your final layer of hope,
and just like that you were gone –
consumed! The sky wiped their
mouths clean of your candy
as I made a right turn
onto Main Street.
Cacti Fur 