When I saw my blood on your leg, the drops so 
dark and clear, that real arterial red, 
I could not even think about death, you 
stood there smiling at me,
you squatted in the tub on your long haunches 
and washed it away. 
The large hard bud of your glans in my mouth,
the dark petals of my sex in your mouth,
I could feel death going farther and farther away, 
forgetting me, losing my address, his 
palm forgetting the curve of my cheek in his hand. 
Then when we lay in the small glow of the
lamp and I saw your lower lip 
glazed with light like liquid fire 
I looked at you and I tell you I knew you were God 
and I was God and we lay in our bed 
on the dark cloud, and somewhere down there 
was the earth, and somehow all we did, the 
blood, the pink stippling of the head, the 
pearl fluid out of the slit, the 
goodness of all we did would somehow get 
down there, it would find its flowering in the world.


 = Linsay Rousseau