“come…”

“come…”
-by Brian Quinn
Appearing in Burdock 15, 2016

 

come
my sweet
pucker up
and in puckering
so lead
as carriages
their horses

through
gated ways
of (un-)
guarded black-gloved footmen

slipping those
(very the same)
black gloves
into your corset
to away with the
jubilation that i had lent you
for just the one day:

from last midnight
until only tonight’s mid-
night

but tomorrow knows
a 12:05 when it strikes!

why then this when
is the how you come to me?

your pocket watch
pleading an
11:55 case but clock towers
everywhere testifying on tomorrow’s behalf

you’re late

and you owe
me

a kiss

 

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