Wordle #225 “Lure”

He snarls into her breasts

and inhales the scent

of the man who came

before him.

He is crazy about her

and she knows it.

–

His heart goes

back and forth,

noose-heavy,

a cuckold.

He doesn’t cry

as he once did.

Not outloud.

Not in private.

–

He takes pleasure

in his own precedence;

in the way she returns

without repenting;

in her animal scent;

in their corrosive repertoire.

It’s become a game.

They speak in dark whispers

about dark deeds and he detects

in her mischievous pulse

a strange aversion to love.

–

Deep down she knows

that she would rather

be here with him

in this basement bound

than above ground scavenging.

Her body is a ruse.

Her smile is ambidextrous.

She swallows

crows and stiff-legged lures.

She swallows men by the dozen.

She swallows them whole.

Hollow as a crescent

he owns her.

–

She laughs and he thinks

the sound is like dry leaves

rustling in an intermittent blast.

She laughs and he thinks

of stars in water,

and of asphalt in summer heat.

–

Her thighs slide apart

dangerous and wet.

He enters her like a muse,

bible-heavy,

he begets her

again and again and again.

---

For: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/02/01/wordle-225/

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