Monday, December 20, 2010

Semaphore

If it’s tucked in your back pocket, or slipped quietly into the overnight bag, I know exactly what’s on your  mind. If you toss a pack quietly into the basket as we walk round the supermarket, my heart beats faster. By the time we get to the freezer section I’m burning up.

You leave a trail for me, through the maze of laundry baskets and obligation and forgetfulness, a series of little silver flags. Square winks. Glittery parcels. Messages in foil envelopes.
I’ll write back in sign language: my three wishes: a hot fuck, a heartfelt kiss, our good health. 


 ~ #1 so far in a series of works in honour of the condom.

3 comments:

Fulani said...

Like it!

Shanna Germain said...

Fuck yes!

Nikki Magennis said...

Cheers, both!