Amadeo Cortez
Wendy Carlisle // In His Lecture on Resonance, the Poet Instructs Us // The poet tells me I will be redeemed, if I embrace // dying. Mortality, fondled like a lover?s balls // will give my words the dirt blessing, // fill my mouth with salt and sweet as if my tongue // licked up a man?s thigh to the dark earth scent // alive at the edge of language. Knowing // I?m on my way out, he says, // should be the fruit of every day. // But such short days - and what if they include // the drop and rise of my slick belly, breasts // against a lover?s skin? He never says, // stroked clean and rolled again in sweat, // how I could crave another kind of death?
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