feral nights and caustic blossoms

     
The sun cast long fingers      
of new day along my      
unashamed nakedness;      
     
blood tacky on my throat,      
sweat tacky in my twig-matted hair,      
jizz tacky on my battered thigh      
     
I smell like sex and earth.      
     
It was a full moon last night      
and the animals      
came out      
       
and fucked the pristine      
rose garden down      
to a barren field      
of thorns      
     
I sigh and do the good morning      
stretch, arms over head,      
back arched, leaning in      
to the acre of hurt      
in my long body      
my breasts thrust up,      
pert nipples twisting      
against the      
lilac field of bruises      
     
I exhale and trace      
with a dirty finger,      
the mottled area      
along my rib cage      
where you held me      
so fucking tight my      
broken heart cut      
your side like a sword,      
     
then down  to the      
teeth stains on the      
pale flesh of my lower belly      
     
as if you tried to eat your way      
to my pussy, from the      
outside, in      
     
and I found a bloody thumbprint      
like a stamp of ownership,      
on the flower tattoo      
my right hip      
     
my lips fold together as      
I flash-back-cringe-blush to      
the way the      
pink moon looked      
in the green backlight      
of your predator eyes      
     
I met you here with fists      
and teeth and rage,      
you etched peonies        
along the shivering flesh      
of my desire      
     
then kissed the raw meat      
of my knuckles with the      
lips I hit hard enough to      
draw blood on us both      
     
as if my hands were stigmata      
and you were still a believer      
     
and it erupted something      
savage in my garden of pain      
I fought for violence      
under your body      
howling for      
you to cure this      
goddamn wound      
and      
I came screaming    

against the copper tang      
in your mouth      
when you pushed      
two fingers in me      
     
and then propped yourself up      
so you could watch my face      
while you worked in a third      
     
the blood sacrifice      
slicked between us,      
engraving my softened senses      
until I pushed clawed hands in the dirt while you ripped      
off another pair of      
my favorite fucking panties      
     
and      
shoved      
     
(yes)      
     
into      
     
(please)      
     
me      
     
(now)      
…      
     
…      
     
….      
     
     
teeny bits of your flesh      
stick in the black crescents      
of caked dirt and plasma      
under my nails      
     
I used it all to      
paint a daisy      
on the only part of      
me that isn’t      
bruised      
by you.