Michael J. Wilson – Two Poems

Michael J. Wilson

Two Poems

Infix

Pebbled skin, waxen and orange The brown spot, softer press my finger in, an entering. Sexual orange? Pulling pith, dry cotton space between lips juice, and pulpy parts on tongue. The tearing of finger into soft skin, the pressing. Rind like metal, like rubbing. Not so sexual, sensual? A rusty serration on my thumb. Disguised Arrows don’t flower so much as cause flowering Point on skin blooms vessels and spills white light Why are you the bulls-eye? The raging thorny forehead lashing against red You covered yourself in goat skin and came up the hills kicking dirt into the eyes of anyone asking anything Spear points fly, enormous arrows exploding making your back rupture into a field of poppies You mate like this, making Minotaur of our love You Pasiphaë, you thinly disguised ex.

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