lovehunt
If the desert is naked
it will worship
no one. If I am the desert, a tarantula
coils between my legs
I bring the married man to my bed
because he is homeless & knows to ignore the vows I make
veiled in the dark on my hands & knees his body before me
posed like a church.
I go too far at night roaming dry land
until the stars appear & he gazes at my teeth.
I want him to spill more on me
than his jaw tusks rising in the heat.
When I sleep beside him, my eyes full of sand,
I dream my love a wild boar heavy & fat breaths trudging
the forest,
I wound it with my arrow crack its thick
coat of skin I drag it home I lug it to the table
like a bride before him I let the light say eat it
to its desert
leave its heart
for no one
by Charleen McClure
it will worship
no one. If I am the desert, a tarantula
coils between my legs
I bring the married man to my bed
because he is homeless & knows to ignore the vows I make
veiled in the dark on my hands & knees his body before me
posed like a church.
I go too far at night roaming dry land
until the stars appear & he gazes at my teeth.
I want him to spill more on me
than his jaw tusks rising in the heat.
When I sleep beside him, my eyes full of sand,
I dream my love a wild boar heavy & fat breaths trudging
the forest,
I wound it with my arrow crack its thick
coat of skin I drag it home I lug it to the table
like a bride before him I let the light say eat it
to its desert
leave its heart
for no one
by Charleen McClure
Charleen McClure is a poet currently residing in New York City. She was born to Jamaican parents in London, England and later immigrated to Atlanta, Georgia. She received her BA in English-Literature from Agnes Scott College and is a Fulbright scholar. Her work has also appeared in Kinfolks Quarterly and African Voices.