Spice

when a siren sings

everything stops

strangers

village idiots

dead beat comrades

all want a piece of what we have

tossing away thoughts to the floor

makes vacancies for more

burning desires from

across state lines

for each other

we are parasites on parade

feeding on the others ink from pens

romanticism

star gazing

dancing a waltz for lovers

between the sheets

living abstract

touch my lady bits

with your long measured

free verse

visual moments of

light and color

filter tones

between my thighs

forged letters

will become unmasked

swallowed into their own

burning ashes

fraudulent cities will crumble

against their paradoxes

and turn to powder

they can’t have what they

thought was theirs

bone and teeth

poems and blood letters

from sacred vaults

they can’t bring us down

we already own the night

as we become one body

and will make it a relic

to our forms

-S. L 2023