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Lolita
Body of
father
you lean on
me
each time I
make
love to a
mature
man.
How old am I?
Forty,
fourteen
more, less,
four
maybe? I’m in
bed
with you
early
afternoon
post lunch
nap. You
tell me fairy
tales little
riding
hood is what
I
recall then
to
complement
colors, blue
beard…
Did you touch me?
I doubt so. Did I desire or fear
it? Did I? Did
you?
I won’t know. But
my father’s body
returns with the
weight ‘n
smell
of each older
man leaning against
me. ‘N I take it
‘n I love it. I
can’t
get enough.
Blessed be, body
of my father.
Please marry me
like nuns
marry the Christ.
Then immortal like
you I will be. When
you’ll be gone
I will die.
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