by Richard King Perkins II

Neatly fold and pile your clothing
next to the dresser.

I’d offer you an empty drawer
but you just never know.

Outside—
the reek of gardenia,

the peal and clangor of flagrant birds
in glass orchards

falling from all that was meant to be.
Abandoning decorum

and integral structure,
you’re a map which leads

to a sandbar of disappearance
and dismissal,

coral and jewels drawn on your body
in nearly invisible pink Sharpie.

With raw meat meant to pacify you
into vertical flexion

I’m built more like a structure
of erotic strangling

than a steamer trunk of safekeeping.
Before you get dressed

notice the sound of swords stirring air,
the difficulty of trying to speak

with only a single spiral horn
between us.

 

[Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart, Best of the Net and Best of the Web nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.]

←          →