Missionaries

Love 7

I’m no black man
I’m no gay man,
I’m neither,

Only an owl, that asks
The perennial question “whom”

To which there is an answer.

A woman in short shorts,
Ivory in complexion,

Against whose tapestry of skin,
Cradled against me,

I become both black and gay,
Happy as a child in Disneyland,

When I’m like an orca,
Who finds that love,
Thrives on the snout end.

How beautiful, that only,
The dolphin family
And humans

Make love face to face,

How we wrestle each other,
Gazing at each others physiognomy,

Learning from
Our plumbing manuals,

On how to build an empire
And to collapse it

Like Assyria or Babylon

And to gift someone dear,
The most intense feeling
A human can ever feel,

What is more beautifying,
Than a smiley face, that you helped nestle,

How beautiful that a killer whale,
Prone to echo location, can also,
Gaze at a face in front,

How when we do “the dolphin”,
Its always a faceoff of sorts,

How beautiful that the miscible,
Can meet at the equator,

Where trade winds blow,
Carrying cargo filled shipments,

On loose hulls,
Of humidified lips.

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