Bronwyn Carter

Twelve Floors Above

Predatory, back before love, caelestis animalis.
The remote system, waiting for a final dewy dampening
glistening and soused: winter aporrhoai.
Fuming then billowing over songs about money, it retains
all our seasonal tastes for breasts, hands, lips. Exclude an eye
to catch a smile because this city’s smells
she can shrink to a child’s
dream of people, dreaming of verge;
a backdrop most blushy, most rouge.
Pela’s pussy portends the hurting sky

I close my eyes against, and the snow lights come up again and again
bleaching the scene’s silent glinting wings, everything hanging, as we sway
twelve floors above

Gyrating flesh leading to this hour which routinely dumps everything,
bringing us closer and your leg contacts mine frozen, barely breathing in
a wide barque: the bed where I read to you, still telling stories,
now kitten lulled, yes, the cat will mew and dog will have his day.

Procházková in mink purchased as protection, you see that
the craven pack closes in never understanding
the meaningful bottom of horror, I being
the wound of its weakness: a broken heart’s

dedition to vertigo but trash it I could never -
shivering, shakes me down; vaguing out into hot sensual pockets,
it is not for me to grant you forgiveness. Without assurance

in the greenhouse of dreams
I trust only these
strong responsive bodies.