some nonsense of mine

You always lose yourself he bites into her neck. Give me that kiss, he says, digging into the side of her mouth, looking for the kiss that could not be gotten, her remembering Peter Pan and how Mrs. Darling was the first to own a beyond Neverland corner kiss, linger, linger.

What are your inhibitions? he screams into her neck How do you dance the dance?

She presses his ears. Contain yourself.

You’re the impossible one he rocks into her.

What is this song in you? she asks him.

Scoop me up cherry red he breathes into her collarbones.

He catches the hem of her blackened white dress, poor pretty satin clutching ink and charcoal smudges like storybook fingerprints. Look what you’ve done, he says. This dress was a wedding.

I’ll marry only words. She stares frantically at the sky. I won’t let you steal me away.

You premature poem he laughs darkly into the cave between her breasts. Your poet is a fool.

You would know, she pouts, childishly. Sometimes I think I hate you. She digs her fingertips in his thighs.

He comes at her, a kiss crashed into Neverland, the oasis of his brown heated mouth fizzling away and evaporating, the stark vapor filling her nose with the scent of inevitable.

The genius of poetry is diminished by the amateur he howls blue gray into the back of her neck.