07
NOCTURNAL TENDENCIES
JOSHUA NG
Four limbs, no ends. Drenched in red.
Stiff as bone, sat in a corner,
left to the night’s devices.
She smiled good when I first got her.
Now, I smell myself on her
as she calls out to me.
Silence.
I muffle her with sheets.
I don’t want others to see her nakedness;
the aged brokenness.
I mask my smell on her with a different fragrance when people visit.
They go around their activities.
Oblivious.
When they leave, she calls out to me again.
Like the night that encroaches, I climb on her. In her.
Soft, supple sensations and a cold wave flushes over.
I rest.