After the work

After the work, in all its usefullness and emptymaking
I could argue with no/ones in traffic, tossing cursewords
only to arrive home horse and exhausted and laydown
for something like a nap, approximating giveinsurrender

I could, but when I get there, arrive dead in that statehood
you smile and dig my back muscles with themlovenails
and I sense your want/to dripping into me, as in an IV
and whatever anger I held for them no/ones goesout

You smile, and lead me from that frontporchangry in
to where hands/squeezed and backpetting catlegs
absentminded thigh kneading, our limbs like saying love
and crawl onto me curling up and asking for comfort

To where we tie up in that thickhug at our neckmeets
where nolight flickers and we see smell lumps of candle
batting off our eyeshine, which can’t spot eyes, but
your head buried in my neck teeth dug of moon and stars

Where nolight is wrapped inside but each other’s heart
that beats away whatever stupid/dumb nothing done
coworker customer again today. Who cares here?
where we pounds of flesh, we godinlaws try to get back

That beats away like wings thee thick gravity and lifts
our love bodies into something approximating heaven.
After the work, desire for giveinsurrender, your silt grin
settles in, awakes me for goodwork to begin, and for better.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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