Love Letter (Revised Sober)
My bare butt burns
to touch your nude caboose as tenderly
as a first anniversary
kiss can be. Naked
making with you is and was and will
continue to be forever
as long as you can stand my desire
to be gently neck-nibbled. Hopefully,
you can still read (read:
“you are alive”). Hopefully,
you’ve read this far in this sentence
here and now,
right here and right now,
because, my once-and-for-all, your heart’s
a multiplex popcorn machine
bursting my tiniest kernels
into quasars and dendrites
and rhinos and leptons and
fifty-five million ridiculous epistles
a god meant to write, but didn’t.
Matt Zambito is the author of The Fantastic Congress of Oddities (Cherry Grove Collections), and two chapbooks, Guy Talk and Checks & Balances (Finishing Line Press). New poems appear in Slice, Little Star, Soundings East, Slipstream, Pembroke Magazine, and elsewhere. He writes from Spokane, Washington.