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A Poem: Ode 

Hook me up
to you.
Just take my
hand—yes,
that’s it,
and put
it to your face.
Then your breasts,
then your waist.
Feel how cold
it is? The icy
fingers pulling
at your thin
outer layers?
That is love.
That is what you
should be feeling
when the glow
of the sun
hits you
and you see
the glow,
the nakedness
of this world,
my foxes face,
my disfigurement,
and how they are
always meant
for you.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Samuel Piccone.

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