Something for the June

Ghazal for Wasted Time

Every day the bus stops near my house
at seven-seventeen, but it’s always late.

I see all the junk my grandmother will die with
And her friends struggling to swallow, gurgling.

You worry about our love changing with time?
Time is only change measured in space, so let’s go slow.

At least these painful moments are not hours, and you
can have my salty tears for free.

Give a monkey a rock, a chisel and time, eventually it’ll sculpt like Rodin.
Right now, it’s shaping your heart and mine.
- E.G.

Poem courtesy of E.G.

You Evade Me

Music with rhythm—
a thumping Latin Beat
makes my skin tingle;
my jigga-belly dance,
while I thump it in time.
I imagine me and
you, my belle, dancing,
dripping sweat and naked.
Our tongues meander
through each other’s juices–
spit, drip, sweat
and liquid thighs.
These tangled juices,
that slippery skin,
those thighs I’d love to gladden;
it’s all rhythmic fantasy and syncopated beat.
- E.G.

Poem courtesy of E.G.