Yellow Mama E zine

Incense

 

by Craig Kirchner

 

She was ambiguous, that’s all.

I made a jerk of myself,

we understood, and that was it.

Now as I touch myself,

and pull back the bed clothes,

I remember most the smell.

 

Sure, the touch, feel,

her young taut-suede skin,

her taste like salted marble,

and the watching, both of us

into the watching, but God,

most I miss the moist musk of it all.

 

Revelations, constant titillations,

then frantic solo flights to,

where did that come from?

Undisciplined, improvised sex,

deep nothings to say,

but anything oral was good.

 

Your tongue on my shoulder,

licking your lower lip, fondling my dark side

with raucous, rascal, deep-brown eyes

that never saw limits but understood.

And always the earthy,

jasmine-drenched dew, the incense haze,

 

that hung like a low cloud,

that were us and this room,

that I now pretend still permeates

these sheets and pillows,

that inhaled will make me high,

hard-on, needed by something.

 

 

        Craig Kirchner lives in Jacksonville, Florida, loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels, and has been nominated three times for a Pushcart. Craig's writing has been published in Chiron Review, Main Street Rag, Yellow Mama, The Modern Artist, and dozens and dozens of others. He houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems on a laptop; these words help keep him straight. Craig can be found on Bluesky.

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      Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Ángeles. His artwork has appeared over the years in Medusa’s Kitchen, Nerve Cowboy, The Dope Fiend Daily, and Rogue Wolf Press, Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.