Elephant

I choose the wine -

a glass of sweat between us

like Diana’s Mirror,

her sunken wrecks

the shoes kicked off by giants

in stupid violent history.

You wear the tablecloth -

‘Friends Romans Countrymen’

and my SS officer, heels tutting,

salutes the pepper pot.

My smile is carried at the speed of light.

You giggle at the speed of sound.

After the salad and tsunami,

Siamese twins joined at their junk

totter across a car park,

pirouetting around kisses,

punching puddles,

hunting tigers with an elephant gun.

In the barnyard of the night,

beneath a gibbous moon,

we become drunk piglets

between each other’s legs.

A conch mouth roughness glows

smooth with a single breath.

See how that fingertip reddens -

all blood where it belongs.

Inhaling distaff wisdom

at the true edge of the world,

two thieves nail themselves to the same cross,

broken backed and screaming.

In a pinprick of silence,

you place your exquisite hand

into the willing glove of my throat,

cradle the raw egg of my heart -

that spoonful of not very much

and squeeze.