'How to Resist Temptation'

Wind over peach-tree moon
and the stillness of your sigh
belittles how frequently I
aim to make you shiver,
drinking all the wine before
we even think about heading to bed.

Dove under blackberry sundown
or "How to Resist Temptation
in the Age of Enlightenment,"
a treatise on the motion of your body
and the way in which I have studied it:
under the refractive lense of foreplay.

Gale in the sea of Rats
and the floating wreck in the middle
is us; we look like an infestation
even in the midst of this Hellish storm
(don't give up, don't ever give up,
don't let go, don't ever let go).

A beacon from the depths of hiatus
or else a false flag operation
created solely to fuck with your psyche --
we didn't torch it, neither did they:
maybe you left your campsite burning
hoping it would fizzle out by the first snow.