I expect you as the enthronement of St. Mary
I expect like an immaculate conception
in her belly
torrents roar down the slope of my hairy skin
vagina is opening like a lily flower
I am blossoming
I am blossoming
but I am in love with poetry

forgive me
forgive me even more one last time tonight
we will not make love

I feel you could lean me against the table easily
take me to the stars
leave me in sin –
what I could do nicer with you
than hover among the clouds and the moon of my pleasure
what you could do nicer with me
than charge your instincts and forge yourself into a man

forgive
but I am in love with poetry
like a slave with his queen

I feel – with every verse I stab you deeper
and you still want me your witch of pleasure
and you do not understand when you warm my bed
like I could pour God himself into your palms
that I must tell the world
that I must give poetry
that I must avoid your pleading hands
which love me as if you sow the unity in me

they carry a false sense
that I cheat myself with poetry