the nothing of it [all]

sitting or lying draped over my sofa bed
swan silent

legs and thighs
mingling, sometimes crossed
sometimes lifting caressing
as the bare and naked women in the
tunisian mosque I entered
january 1997, ramadan.

are you dirty, are you bleeding, he said?
then go in.

and i did.
they lay still
over rugs
luxurious, illustrious
draperies of flesh and
semi-toned skins

i lay
here, semi synch erotic
but mostly just lie
among the sheets or not
underwear or not
legs leaning on my wall
or one, then two

watching, quiet
swan silent
rolling the room
with my eyes
listening to the poetry
the nothing of it all

i am full
a fountain
cadmium blue.


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