crickets rub their legs
together
in the night
I
am in them
and
they are in me
merry-go-round
and spin the bottle
of holy holy chirp wine
sing
the whore dance
the
rubbing of legs
against
spindles of bone
and
raw pink Venus flesh
vampires
born into the night
in
New York stone canyons
but
who can blame them
thrust
into the world
from
a cricket’s birth canal
their
day job to sleep
and
by night to hustle
with
leather skirt and boots
so who can blame them
who
can blame them
there
but for the grace
go
you and I
~William Hammett
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