NO SWEAT
I smell
of sweat
smell of death
a smell
to savour
sweat
laced with death
raw odour
needing a tad more
of your perfume
and spice on my skin
and so this alchemy
whose secret
barely hidden
opens itself
to scrutiny
lead
turned to platinum
gold
to uranium
crystal to
diamond
water
to steam
and star blazing
fissile energy
force of
such
fusion
stuff of that
industry
to thing that you are
which
that old skald, old troubadour
Saxon
Norman Viking
Celt
within me
can sing of hesitantly, imperfectly,
the superabundance you require
so
much long gone
all its
revelation
lending itself
to
all
that
is rival, separate
Other
distant in time
faithfully elsewhere
whilst
I smell of sweat, do
speak here
of death
and other transformation.
poems 2 die for 