The wild god
The wild god hangs with the goats
Because he is in you
I want him in me
Because he can see you
I want him
to see me
I smell him from a distance
my nose
it does not twitch
The wild god hangs with the goats
I am selfish
I want god to dig into me
to bury me
I cry with desire
I burn my skin with fire
My pilgrim lust
I give to one
my bloody
heart
beats
ripe
like sun
The wild god hangs with the goats
I want him
And I think he wants me too
Cold Eve
The fog brews lovingly.
Inches away
the dawn is forced to recede.
Further and further
it lays.
Swept into the night
with nature's black broomed whores
who swallow lovingly.
Melissa Hansen lives in San Francisco where she writes stories and poetry that enjoy lying in swollen notebooks while hiding in dark drawers. Her poetry has been published by Leaf Press, Silenced Press, The Smoking Poet, and The Guild of Outsider Writers. You can contact her here:
www.myspace.com/quicksecret
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