Milk Stained the night

Milk stained night I breathed your throat
your hands hot, slipped around the base
and we ate each others moans
while the spiders shivered on their black webs
and fucked the husks of flies.

We were wrapped for hours, with the swelling,
the parting, slipping, grunting. Savouring
the dirty feeling sensuous and alive
the dead flies on our backs crawling

the phone, shocking us into reality
… your brothers’
laughter… the thud of feet…
faces painted like our phone booth bed.

by Dave Migman