Sleep Song 65 [Songmason]

1935
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Crescendo and de- crescendo, crumbling you like a wall. It mercies, the brick and mortar of sexual organs, to their cacophony of clichéd functions – the body as sustenance, shelter, desecrated temple – rooms echoing with ...

Crescendo and de-
crescendo, crumbling
you like a wall. It mercies,
the brick and mortar of
sexual organs, to their
cacophony of clichéd
functions – the body
as sustenance, shelter,
desecrated temple –
rooms echoing with
foreign music, where
flagstone sweats with
the furnaces of
human balm: the way
our bodies breathe
out the burning we
put into one another.
Those rooms; dining
chambers in silver, ebony;
scarred wood beneath
greased silk tablecloths,
the pendulous chandelier
of thirsty knives. Foreman,
I want you to demolish
those rooms. Black fire,
bunker buster, pulverize
me to an island of fire,
smoldering to a butt
and glitzing embers
in the gloom.
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