THE WHORE'S SOFT BELLY

exposed
she lifts her blouse
to bare her bedsprings
from doorways, a belly
fattened with apathy, kneaded by lust
into a pillow for men
whose mean urge scores
the need that surges

in hiding places
up the nose
between toes
to Momma's embrace
suffusing warmth
$100, 10 bags, 1 bundle
brings it home
and she can sleep

gravid with exhaustion
indifferent to men
sinking into her bowels
into staggering emptiness
sick inside
this soft globe
of flesh and fat
sick for years, nothing

in the pit but the shit
she's swallowed
put your money down
she will lie on it
close her eyes
and die
victimless crimes
they all get what they want





---




FIRST LOVE

We hold the wind together
as you carve the grooves
into my history
ribboning my reproach
with a kiss that ripens me
until my tender skin splits.
My open palms ramble
over your landscape
touching your words
spoken with a long smile.
Temporary truths,
no other sound can drown,
find my tattered, sweet
silent consent.

We will dissipate,
like forever's smoke.
And in time, my heart
will rise and soar
upward, lifted
by a bitter wind.





---




YOU SAID "LET'S REMAIN FRIENDS"

I hear the cadence
of your step,
the skimming of your pants
one leg against the other,
and remember
you fingertips tracing my face,
a surprise against this dark morning.

Time passes and passes
for some of us
but I linger, untouched by the distances
you've crossed,
amazed at the ease
in which you move in and out
of my life, move
close enough that I feel
the air part its path for you.
I want you

to tell me again
how you have always loved the curve of my chin.
Walk over here,
I need your familiar
feeling.





---




OVER 40

Lover there is carnality ripening
in these folds of maturity.

My passion will not glide
out with the tides. It is secured
with fibers of time
twisted into ropes.

I will hold you
like I was born to the cold.
I will kiss your lips
as if pulling the petals
of a rose, one by one,
never bruising their tender mood.

I will give you more
than a handful of haze
to remember
and you will suffer sweetly
in your memories.







Janet Bernichon
© 1996

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