NO MAN’S LAND
I dream
of the two of us
out in no man’s
land
making love on a bed
of thorns, barbed
wire, razor wire
perhaps
you dreamt it too
it is a dream
we shared
bodies panzered up
shock and awe, clattering together
love, in any sense of the term,
a flagrant euphemism
for whatever it was we sought,
hoped to achieve
desperate
to hit our mark, believing
if we graduate
to this level
things get incandescent
trading stigmata, as we stagger
towards that universe
beyond words, outside language
overhead the Sun
still
in control
weighty, central, utterly
orthodox
frowning upon this
nonsense
terminally skeptical,
and yet
so vulnerable
open
to crucifixion, for
us to bang nails through
turn
that powerhouse of
fusion into
one giant circular coffin
poems 2 die for 