I WOULD WANT YOU

with me
always
watching
Greek fishermen
wearing thick-ribbed
blue sweaters
& watch-caps
wash salt
from their eyes
& talk to me
of childhood
flights.

The Aegean's net
of kelp & foam
catches our brine soaked fingers
like crazy minnows scurrying
between light shafts & toes
while danger plays
across my lower lip
waiting for your teeth
to bite
& coax a ribbon of red
to bathe in.
We can finger paint
each other's name
on our cheeks
in blood
& lick each letter
with menstrual madness.

I will not write again
(to you.)


Until I do.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016