After Seeing Sick: The Life and Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist Together

What am I waiting for?
A you and a you.
Birds fly past, swooping into the night air, and I want to be them,
Flying away from you.
You hold me,
We talk, and we talk about everything.
You hold me,
And we talk,
And we talk curiously about each other. 

Nothing is bad,
The feel of your thoughts,
The feel of your body,
Stays with me all night,
After you leave.

You love me wholly now,
And I know that,
But I’ve decades of whole love,
From people that stopped short, too soon.
I feel a full-stop in your good-bye,
It may be my imagination or maybe my impatience,
And I look at the swooping birds,
Wishing to escape the knowledge of limits.
Am I seeing only unripe desire?
You have told me that it is inside of you,
And it is softening and ripening.

So I wait to hold you,
So I wait for your heart to open further,
And I long to fly away when I desire too much.
 

 

About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a queer butch San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to After Seeing Sick: The Life and Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist Together

  1. bentcrude says:

    i linked you at http://stuffdykeslike.blogspot.com

    your poetry’s so good.

    Like

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