The Orange House James Goldworthy
Queensland, Australia
@james_goldworthy
ISSUE 3 - QUEER LOVE
Spend me again under amber eyes,
playing victim to bitter flavors of familiar
flesh and grand illusions. Pursuits of
power link me to the chain: I am another
number on this street, but the keys on my
belt no longer fit this lock.
Watch me sweat from fire stairs
fumbling for my pride on broken steps;
the shudder for the violence of another.
Thorns grow through magnolias I prick
my fingers digging your garden my
body bleeds
soaks me through
Birds drink from the
breaking bath I
fill.
Force my hand to wind the 'knob, lay me in
the flavor of your appetite and the waves
you break inside me. Faucets long
unscrewed quicken to heat, I burn my
throat on boiled, curdling cream; you trace
my element with your mouth.
Pull these blinds on red rounds who
shout; a bottle bursts a lip and calls a
favour; I kiss your millstones before you
bolt the doors on every room; on every
level lounge sounds
follow me
down.
These homes orange peel, unpolished;
Someone else's muscle car is yours,
now. In your kitchen, I throw my keys in
a yellow bin, kiss your skin fridge the
frightening of my expiry And down a
glass of
carbonated
milk.