THE BRAVERY OF COWARDS

An icebox
inside an igloo
filled
with nothing
but cold cubes
that melt
when touched
by cheap wine
or cheap
sentiment.

We love best
from a distance;
the heat of flesh
stops
just short
of burning.
We fondle words,
paint impressions,
quick notes settled
in the flesh
searching
for the cunt
of entry.
We finger it,
arousing it,
exposed it,
and finally
kill it.

My makers
hipped me
to what
awaited.
I knew
I didn't want
to tangle
with other
humans.
I was a lover
of sensation.
With the patience
of a spider
I wove a web
to catch
objects
to where I could safely
slide down and suck
what blood they have
and move on.
A bloodless
game of moves
& countermoves;
as much sense
in defeat
as in
victory.

Have a drink
on me.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015