Today's poem is by Suzanne Frischkorn

My Body as a Communist Country
       

Its betrayal totalitarian—
skin dry as parchment

lit by the slightest brush.
The scent in our

sheets sets off chimes,
a measure until you

return.
The minutes I swallow whole.

Castro, you've nothing in Cuba like my desire.

My body's capitalism,
greedy. It's a slow-jam

in a darkened room
keeping time with a DJ.

Its lyric, the blue light of aging shadows

desire's waking. Ten years from now
we'll wonder at this

my body's exacting power
brooking no opposition.

Tweet

Copyright © 2023 Suzanne Frischkorn All rights reserved
from Fixed Star
Jackleg Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission