little deaths

by David Estringel

 

 

We implode—

explode—

in raptures

of liquid light

that set the skin

to sizzle on the spit

like slow-cooked meat,

pulled apart

in greedy clutches,

peeling

skin from skin,

limb from limb,

sinew from bone

until all is gone,

fallen away

in shreds

and trickles.

Tongues prodding,

hungrily,

for the taste of coppery bliss

of chewed lips,

these beautiful bodies—

diminished

heartbeats and exhales

of viscera and vasculature

with eyelids, aflutter—

fade

into black, into white—

dick-teasing,

mind-fucking

strobes of abstract consciousness.

Hand-in-hand

together,

we die

little deaths,

again…

again…

and again—

every morning, a resurrection.

Author Bio

David Estringel holds a B.A. in English. His poetry and short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in online and print publications, such as the North Meridian Review, Setu Bilingual Journal, Azahares Literary Magazine, Route 7 Review, The Blue Nib, Pif Magazine, Cutthroat: A Journal of the Arts, Latin Anthology, Rigorous Magazine, Bosphorus Review, Lahar Magazine, The Bitchin' Kitsch, and Drunk Monkeys. David has also been an editor at The Good Men Project, Red Fez, and The Elixir Magazine.