erotic poems about my bike


we bough-limbed things

she knows my fathers' fears

i know wind & hunger,

tangle friction heat

where our cores meet

oil with sweat & sunshine


she is high yellow,

i'm high on her

hearts jitter in separation

like each other's children

while each other's mothers


we gazelle

this ripe body

bruises delicious mementos.

to carry & carry

legs pump & straighten

arch or low, test & tense

potential fall

from rest into love

from an angel to sin


a stranger calls out

a pant like this a want from the street

she or me or both? we pound on.