BACON'S EYEThe sin of I have blisters on my lips
resembles a cross-stitch
on bitten nipples;
only mushier and
more you disinfect the tongue
than anything else.
Drops of I repent
on swollen eyelids,
but not his menstruation,
are made of I want you,
I want you, I want you
scarred, twisted on the roof of a car,
wrestling with the wheels and the engine.
A baboon, paralyzed like an erection,
shouting louder than a crucified
aroused by a boxing match,
jerks off at the premiere
of the surgical event.
Isn’t it funny that the rock star
is caught in the grid as well,
but not the swastika?
Ernesto Sarezale, 2000-2004
www.sarezale.com
sarezale(at)yahoo.com